V 


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PERCY- K>  FITZHUOF 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

Arehlblad  Henderson 


CB 
B72UflO 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00032193652 


This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


Form  No.   471 


(   Wmi.   !I.  Ran 


BUFFALO     BILL 


THE   BOYS' 
BOOK   OF   SCOUTS 


BY 

PERCY  KEESE  FITZHUGH 

Author  op  "Along  the  Mohawk  Trail,"  Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS   Y    CROWELL   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1917, 
By  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 


V 

^ 


PREFACE 

As  every  boy  knows,  this  great  country  of  ours 
was  in  the  beginning  a  very  little  country,  occupy- 
ing a  narrow  strip  of  land  along  the  Atlantic 
Coast.  The  vast  ocean  washed  against  it,  and 
across  this  ocean  brave  men,  heroic,  intrepid, 
and  adventurous,  had  come,  braving  its  perils, 
and  had  founded  their  little  colonies  along  its 
wild,  rugged  shore. 

These  men  were  explorers — water  scouts,  they 
might  be  called — and  their  lives  and  deeds  were 
marvels  of  prowess  and  adventure. 

But  beyond  this  narrow  strip  of  land  lay  an- 
other wilderness,  mysterious  and  unexplored,  and 
as  dark  and  perilous  and  trackless  as  the  wild 
ocean  to  the  eastward.  The  thirteen  colonies, 
and  later  the  little  republic,  lay  between  these 
two  vast  silent  wastes ;  and  men  soon  found  that 
of  the  two  the  watery  one  was  the  easier  to 
explore. 

At  least,  it  was  not  so  difficult  to  estimate 
its  perils.  There  were  storms  and  there  were 
pirates ;  but  at  least  there  were  no  unknown  sav- 
ages, no  wild  beasts,  no  frowning  mountains,  or 
barren,  wind-swept  plains — no   scorching  sands. 

This  land  ocean  was  as  wide  as  the  watery 


in 


iv  PREFACE 

one  and  a  great  deal  more  mysterious.  The 
venturesome  explorers  and  settlers  had  solved 
one  mystery  only  to  find  another.  Miles  and 
miles  of  frowning  wilderness  stretched  to  the 
westward  showing  no  more  sign  of  path  or  trail 
than  the  broad  Atlantic  had  shown.  Ships  were 
of  no  use  here,  and  there  were  no  other  vehicles 
which  could  be  made  use  of. 

Men  had  no  more  knowledge  of  the  extent  and 
character  of  this  wilderness,  nor  of  what  lay 
hidden  in  its  impenetrable  recesses,  than  Co- 
lumbus had  possessed  of  what  lay  west  of  the 
Azores.  The  first  men  to  cross  this  trackless, 
anknown  waste  were  just  as  venturesome  as  the 
great  Genoese,  and  they  had  a  great  many  more 
adventures. 

Of  course,  the  same  spirit  which  had  prompted 
men  to  cross  the  ocean  prompted  them  to  press 
still  farther  westward.  Many  were  satisfied  to 
remain  where  they  were,  but  there  were  a  few 
to  whom  the  dense  wilderness  to  the  west  was  a 
continual  challenge.  They  wished  to  know  some- 
thing about  it,  to  make  it  yield  up  its  secrets, 
perhaps  to  remain  and  live  within  or  beyond  it. 

These  men  were  of  exactly  the  same  spirit  as 
their  nautical  brethren  and  predecessors,  but  by 
reason  of  tne  character  of  the  enterprises  which 
they  undertook  and  the  necessity  of  devising  new 
means  with  which  to  encounter  new  and  different 
problems  of  adventure,  they  have  come   to  be 


PREFACE  v 

regarded  as  a  sort  of  race  apart  in  our  history, 
and  the  counterpart  of  the  American  scout  and 
pioneer  is  not  known  in  any  other  land. 

Under  the  general  heading  of  " Scout,"  which 
means  one  who  goes  ahead  of  an  army  to  obtain 
information,  we  include  here  men  who  did  much 
more  than  that,  who  were  scouts  in  a  broader 
sense,  and  whose  adventurous  deeds  were  not 
limited  to  their  military  activities.  Some  of  them 
went  ahead  not  of  an  army,  but  of  civilization, 
felling  forests  and  lighting,  because  they  had  to 
fight  the  savages  who  challenged  their  advance. 
They  are  associated  in  our  minds  quite  as  much 
with  the  axe  as  with  the  gun,  and  the  log  cabin 
should  be  their  emblem,  for  they  were,  most  of 
them,  religious  men  and  apostles  of  the  home. 

They  began  very  early  in  our  history  pushing 
westward,  and  continued  pushing  westward  as 
civilization  tagged  on  behind  them. 

These  men,  products  of  our  own  land  and 
breathing  its  bold  spirit,  are  undoubtedly  the 
most  picturesque  characters  in  history.  They 
were  as  much  a  wonder  to  Europeans  as  the 
red  Indian  himself  wras.  They  were  as  resolute 
and  as  lofty  of  aim  as  the  old  Crusaders. 

Most  of  these  men  possessed  all  the  qualities 
of  heroism.  They  were  models  of  physical  man- 
hood, strong  of  will  and  muscle,  romantic  in 
attire  and  capable  of  enduring  incredible  hard- 
ships  and  privations.      So   extraordinary  were 


vi  PREFACE 

their  careers  that  many  a  boy  in  Europe  has 
heard  of  them  as  myths.  They  were,  as  a  rule, 
noble  of  stature,  experts  with  gun  and  axe,  and 
of  indomitable  persistence.  The  history  of  ad- 
venture knows  no  other  characters  so  wholesome 
and  rugged. 

Some  of  these  pioneers  lived  many  years  ago, 
others  nearer  to  our  own  time;  as  long  as  there 
was  a  frontier  with  lurking  red  men  and  more 
wildernesses  beyond  to  be  penetrated  and  sub- 
dued, they  flourished. 

"We  know  of  some  of  these  heroic  figures  as 
scouts,  of  others  chiefly  as  pioneers,  of  others  as 
backwoodsmen  and  of  some  as  Indian  fighters. 
But  their  hearts  all  beat  with  the  same  intrepid 
impulse.  Patriotism  and  high  resolve  and  scorn 
of  hardship  and  suffering  surged  up  within  their 
stalwart  bosoms,  and  we  shall  call  them  all 
scouts,  for  so  they  were  in  a  sense. 

At  least  they  were  all  alike  in  this — that  their 
lives  were  lives  of  peril  and  adventure.  They 
were  the  very  best  kind  of  scouts,  for  they  loved 
home  and  peace  and  they  were  ready  to  fight  for 
them. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  the  story-teller  to 
imagine  such  experiences  as  fell  to  this  noble 
army  of  buckskin  patriots  and  warriors. 

The  Boys'  Book  of  Scouts  is  intended  to  tell 
of  the  remarkable  careers  of  some  of  the  most 
conspicuous  of  these  picturesque  characters.    We 


PREFACE  vii 

are  not  to  think  of  them  as  fighters  or  as  "going 
west  to  fight  the  Indians, "  for  they  went  with 
no  such  purpose;  but  they  knew  no  fear,  they 
shunned  no  peril,  and  they  carried  their  guns 
as  well  as  their  axes  because  they  knew  there 
was  no  use  going  out  to  a  lonely  frontier  with 
pinks  in  their  buttonholes  and  shaking  tin  rattles. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

George  Rogers  Clark 1 

David    Crockett 21 

Samuel   Houston 36 

Christopher   (Kit)    Carson 50 

Richard    Wooton 68 

William  Frederick  Cody 81 

Belzy   Dodd 97 

George   Croghan HO 

Daniel   Boone 127 

Francis  Marion 144 

Samuel  Brady 157 

Lewis  and  Clark 171 

Zebulon  Montgomery  Pike 188 

Andrew  Lewis 203 

General  Henry  W.  Lawton 219 

Joseph,  the  Nez  Perce 233 

Old  John   Smith 250 

Rube  Stevens 265 

General  George  A.  Custer 283 

James  Bridger 303 

ix 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Buffalo  Bill Frontispiece 

PAGE 

George  Rogers  Clark   2 

The  Death  of  Davy  Crockett,  last  survivor  of  the 

Alamo  Garrison 34 

Sam  Houston 38 

Christopher  (Kit)  Carson 50 

Trappers  crossing  the  Rockies 82 

National    Monument    to    Buffalo    Bill  erected    on 

Lookout  Mountain,  Colorado 96 

An  Old-time  Plains  Fight 100 

Daniel  Boone 128 

General  Marion  and  British  Officers 144 

Capt.  Meriweather  Lewis 172 

Gen.  William  Clark 176 

The  Voyageurs 182 

General  Henry  W.  Lawton 230 

General  George  A.  Custer 284 

"  Curly,"  survivor  of  the  Custer  Battle 302 


GEORGE   ROGERS    CLARK 

How  he  became  a  Kentucky  pioneer;  how  he  was  elected 
to  office  but  didn't  get  the  office;  how  he  procured  500 
pounds  of  gunpowder  and  carried  it  over  the  mountains ; 
together  with  how  he  purposed  using  the  powder;  how 
he  interrupted  a  dance;  how  he  made  his  wonderful 
journey  across  Illinois  and  how  he  succeeded  in  opening 
the  West  for  American  expansion.  Also  of  his  country's 
ingratitude  and  of  his  unhappy  last  days. 

The  fair  ladies  and  gallant  gentlemen  of  the 
remote  little  town  of  Kaskaskia,  on  the  Missis- 
sippi, were  having  a  gala  time  of  it  on  the  night 
of  July  the  fourth,  seventeen  seventy-eight,  and 
the  music  to  which  they  danced  floated  out 
through  the  portholes  of  their  little  fort  and 
mingled  with  the  soft  evening  breeze  blowing 
over  the  fair  country  which  is  now  a  part  of 
the  great  State  of  Illinois. 

Above  the  little  fort  floated  the  banner  of 
King  George;  the  officers  who  danced  wore  King 
George's  uniform;  and  the  dance  which  they 
danced  was  the  minuet  which  more  than  one  of 
them  had  learned  at  King  George's  Court. 

Of  course,  they  knew  there  was  a  war;  they 
knew  the  thirteen  colonies  had  struck  for  inde- 
pendence, but  they  were  not  so  proud  and  vision- 


2   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ary  as  to  suppose  that  the  American  patriots 
would  trouble  tliem  in  their  remote  and  all  but 
unknown  little  settlement. 

So  the  gay  young  officers  and  fair  ladies  had 
turned  the  little  fort  of  Kaskaskia  into  a  scene 
of  gayety  and  were  loyally  tripping  the  graceful 
measure  of  the  minuet,  when  there  suddenly 
appeared  in  the  doorway  a  tall  man  in  buckskin 
who  bade  the  merrymakers  to  pause. 

Instantly  the  music  ceased  and  all  eyes  turned 
in  consternation  upon  the  intruder  whose  pictur- 
esque but  tattered  costume  of  the  backwoods 
must  have  contrasted  oddly  with  the  festive 
scene  on  which  he  gazed. 

He  told  them  that  he  was  sorry  to  interrupt 
their  festivities,  but  that  he  had  come  to  take 
the  fort;  adding  that,  while  he  would  be  glad 
to  see  them  continue  their  dancing,  they  must 
bear  in  mind  that  they  were  dancing  in  honor  of 
Virginia  and  of  the  United  States  of  America — 
not  of  Great  Britain  and  King  George! 

The  man  who  thus  appeared  like  an  appari- 
tion in  that  remote  frontier  settlement  was 
George  Eogers  Clark,  a  Virginian  by  birth  and 
an  elder  brother  of  William  Clark,  the  famous 
companion  of  Meriwether  Lewis.  He  was  born 
on  the  19th  of  November,  1752. 

Like  George  Washington,  young  Clark  be- 
came a  surveyor,  which  in  those  days  meant 
long,  hard  journeys  full  of  peril  and  adventure. 


GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARK 


GEORGE   ROGERS    CLARK  3 

He  was  tall  and  strong,  and  said  by  some  to 
have  had  red  hair,  which  we  can  readily  believe 
if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  alleged  affinity  be- 
tween red  hair  and  recklessness. 

Young  Clark  served  with  distinction  in  the 
war  which  Lord  Dunmore,  Royal  Governor  of 
Virginia,  waged  against  the  Indians,  and  which 
is  commonly  known  as  Lord  Dunmore 's  War. 
After  that  he  went  to  Kentucky,  which  he  had 
previously  visited  on  one  of  his  surveying  trips, 
and  in  that  famous  backwoods  country,  which 
proved  the  stern  school  of  so  many  good  scouts, 
we  find  him  following  the  congenial  life  of  pio- 
neer and  frontiersman  when  the  War  of  Inde- 
pendence began. 

As  soon  as  hostilities  commenced,  the  Indians 
of  the  wild  Kentucky  frontier  availed  themselves 
of  the  excuse-  thus  offered  and  began  to  war 
upon  the  lonely,  unprotected  settlements. 

We  must  remember  that  these  isolated  hamlets 
west  of  the  Alleghenies  were  considered  by  the 
frontiersmen  to  belong  to  the  thriving  colony  of 
Virginia,  and  the  pioneers  of  that  lonesome  re- 
gion were  not  long  in  getting  together  and  dele- 
gating one  or  two  of  their  number  to  make  a 
trip  across  the  mountains  and  explain  their 
defenceless  position  to  the  Virginia  Legislature 
and  to  the  Governor,  who  was  none  other  than 
the  famous  "liberty-or-death"  Patrick  Henry. 

Clark  and   one   other  were   selected   for   this 


4    THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

long  journey  and  important  mission  and  the 
hardy  frontiersmen  even  went  so  far  as  to  elect 
the  two  emissaries  delegates  from  Kentucky  to 
the  Virginia  Assembly — an  original  move,  to 
say  the  least,  since  the  wild  country  west  of  the 
mountains  had  no  more  political  existence  than 
the  moon! 

The  two  pioneers  and  would-be  members  of 
the  august  body  of  Virginia  made  the  trip  across 
the  mountains  and  arrived  at  the  thriving  me- 
tropolis of  Williamsburgh,  where  they  found 
that  the  session  in  which  they  had  hoped  to 
participate  had  come  to  an  end — without  even 
marking  them  absent! 

But  they  were  still  emissaries,  if  they  had 
missed  their  chance  to  be  statesmen,  and  they 
found  a  ready  listener  in  Governor  Henry,  to 
whom  they  described  the  dangers  which  beset 
their  lonesome  settlements  beyond  the  mountains. 
They  told  him  that  in  view  of  the  war  and  the 
consequent  growing  depredations  of  the  Indians, 
five  hundred  pounds  of  powder  would  come 
handy. 

Patrick  Henry  could  not  deny  this,  but  Vir- 
ginia was  in  no  particular  hurry  to  deal  out 
such  a  quantity  of  this  valuable  commodity  for 
use  in  the  remote  and  supposedly  unimportant 
wilderness,  and  it  was  some  time  before  the 
earnest  pleadings  of  Clark  and  his  companion 
prevailed. 


GEORGE   ROGERS    CLARK  5 

At  last  Virginia  gave  them  the  powder  and 
they  faced  the  task  of  carrying  it  back  across 
the  mountains.  They  began  their  difficult  return 
journey  in  high  spirits,  however,  for  they  had 
succeeded  not  only  in  procuring  the  powder,  but 
in  winning  official  recognition  of  their  lonely 
borderland  as  a  part  of  Virginia,  and  entitled 
to  at  least  some  measure  of  protection  and  con- 
sideration. They  made  their  journey  back 
through  a  country  of  lurking  savages,  incited 
to  the  warpath  by  the  British,  and  after  braving 
many  dangers  and  surmounting  innumerable  ob- 
stacles of  travel,  they  brought  the  valuable  pow- 
der and  the  good  news  to  their  companions  of 
the  frontier. 

But  the  colony  of  Virginia,  with  its  gayety 
and  its  divers  concerns  and  a  heavy  share  of 
the  burden  of  war  resting  upon  its  patriotic 
shoulders,  did  not  take  the  West  very  seriously. 
Little  those  prosperous  planters  dreamed  how 
that  vast  wilderness  would  one  day  be  parceled 
out  in  prosperous  and  populous  states,  how  the 
all  but  unknown  region  between  the  Mississippi 
and  the  Wabash  would,  in  the  fulness  of  time, 
become  the  mighty  commonwealth  of  Illinois 
with  a  seething  world-center  within  its  borders. 

They  knew  that  along  the  Wabash  in  that 
far  distant  region  was  the  old  French  settlement 
of  Vincennes,  and  that  on  the  Mississippi,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  or  so  miles  farther  west,  was 


6   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Kaskaskia,  also  of  French  origin,  both  now  pos- 
sessed by  Great  Britain  and  holding  British 
garrisons ;  and  they  knew,  also,  of  the  old  French 
post  of  Detroit.  The  knowledge  did  not  trouble 
them  at  all,  however,  for  these  distant  wilderness 
settlements  and  the  vast  conntry  all  abont  them 
were  out  of  the  game,  so  far  as  the  War  of 
Independence  was  concerned. 

It  never  entered  the  heads  of  the  colonial 
authorities  that  those  sequestered  settlements 
in  the  great  West  might  possibly  be  the  keys 
to  an  enormous  treasure  chest. 

This  was  the  very  idea,  however,  which  oc- 
curred to  the  far-sighted  backwoodsman  whose 
story  we  are  telling. 

Of  what  use,  thought  he,  is  it  to  fight  the 
Indians  when  the  British  sources  of  supply  to 
them  remain  open?  Why  waste  valuable  powder 
on  the  disease  when  perhaps  a  bold  stroke  or 
two  might  eliminate  the  cause? 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  suggested  to 
young  George  "Rogers  Clark  a  scheme  which, 
considering  prospects  and  facilities,  was  nothing 
less  than  stupendous.  He  believed  it  would  be 
better  to  employ  his  precious  powder  in  the 
ambitious  enterprise  of  surprising  and  taking 
these  British  posts  than  in  continued  fighting 
with  the  Indians. 

It  would  be  a  master  stroke  against  the  red 
men,  no  doubt;  but  who  shall  say  that  in  the 


GEORGE   ROGERS   CLARK  7 

mind  of  this  young  frontier  patriot  there  was 
no  prophetic  picture  of  the  victorious  young 
republic  pressing  ever  westward?  No  doubt  he, 
who  had  seen  something  of  this  unknown  area, 
as  the  Virginians  had  not,  realized  that  if  the 
thirteen  emancipated  colonies  were  going  to  grow 
they  would  need  a  good-sized  backyard  to  grow 
in.  And  he  resolved  that  by  one  bold  stroke 
he  would  give  them  this  priceless  territory  and 
put  an  end  to  the  increasing  Indian  forays  at 
the  same  time. 

We  cannot  to-day  appreciate  the  bold  concep- 
tion of  this  plan.  We  know  what  the  West  has 
become,  but  we  cannot  know  how  difficult  of 
accomplishment,  and  indeed  how  unimportant, 
its  winning  must  have  seemed  to  the  patriots 
whose  whole  interest  and  effort  were  centered 
along  the  seaboard  and  who  had  heard  of  Vin- 
cennes,  Kaskaskia,  and  Detroit  merely  as  quaint 
old  French  settlements,  remote  and  inaccessible 
in  a  wild,  unknown  region,  and  now  garrisoned 
by  the  English. 

But  George  Rogers  Clark,  scout  of  the  Ken- 
tucky backwoods,  not  yet  twenty-six  years  old, 
had  a  vision  of  what  the  conquest  of  these 
crucial  posts  might  mean,  and  in  1777  he  re- 
traced his  way  back  to  Virginia  to  lay  his 
audacious  plan  before  the  Governor,  Patrick 
Henry. 

Among  the  wise  old  heads  who,  with  the  gov- 


8    THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ernor,  listened  to  the  enthusiastic  young  pioneer, 
was  the  great  Thomas  Jefferson,  whose  shrewd 
gaze  was  always  cast  afar  and  who  often  saw 
where  others  saw  not.  It  was  altogether  to  be 
expected  that  the  man  who  later  sent  Lewis  and 
Clark  to  the  Pacific  and  Zebulon  Pike  to  the 
wilds  of  Colorado  should  lend  a  ready  ear  to  the 
patriotic  young  Kentuckian,  and  his  plan  was 
promptly  approved. 

In  order  that  it  might  be  carried  out,  he  was 
given  a  commission  as  colonel,  something  over 
a  thousand  pounds  of  currency  (which,  owing  to 
the  war,  was  of  greatly  depreciated  value),  and 
authority  to  raise  seven  hundred  and  fifty  men 
for  his  undertaking.  The  young  frontiersman 
was  not  disposed  to  question  the  generosity  of 
his  sponsors  nor  the  adequacy  of  his  equipment, 
and  he  went  forth  delighted  to  attempt  with 
these  very  insufficient  means  one  of  the  boldest 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  one  of  the  most  momentous 
feats  in  American  history. 

On  an  island  in  the  Ohio  River,  close  to  where 
the  city  of  Louisville  now  stands,  Clark  formed 
a  miscellaneous  little  army  consisting  of  ad- 
venturers and  frontiersmen  and  numbering  con- 
siderably fewer  than  the  purposed  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  men. 

The  object  of  his  enterprise  was  kept  a  secret, 
and  when  at  last  rumors  of  it  leaked  out  his 
followers  began  to  desert  right  and  left  until 


GEORGE   ROGERS   CLARK  9 

there  remained  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  of 
them,  crudely  drilled  (for  Clark  was  not  a 
soldier  in  the  disciplinary  sense)  and  sadly 
unequipped. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  June,  1778,  they 
started  down  the  river  in  boats.  There  was 
an  eclipse  of  the  sun  on  that  memorable  day  and 
the  flotilla  of  tiny  craft,  tossed  and  separated 
by  the  tumultuous  rapids,  was  whirled  on  in 
almost  total  darkness. 

They  reunited  where  the  swift  current  was 
less  boisterous  and  made  a  pleasant  voyage 
down  the  wide,  hurrying  stream  until,  on  the 
fourth  day,  they  fell  in  with  a  band  of  hunters, 
who  had  lately  been  at  Kaskaskia.  Hearing 
from  young  Clark  of  his  intention  to  take  that 
place,  they  asked  if  they  might  join  the  party 
— a  request  which  was  granted  with  alacrity. 

The  student  of  frontier  history  is  continually 
coming  upon  just  such  instances  as  this  which 
pleasantly  illustrate  the  romance  of  those  ad- 
venturous times.  Hunters,  border  settlers,  scouts 
returning  from  other  missions,  were  always 
turning  back  to  accompany  some  venturesome 
expedition  or  other  which  they  met  by  the  way, 
and  we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that,  not- 
withstanding their  usually  lofty  and  practical 
purposes,  they  loved  adventure  for  its  own  sweet 
sake. 

Leaving   the   Ohio,   the   party   started   across 


10   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

the  prairie  in  the  southern  part  of  Illinois, 
headed  for  the  Mississippi.  The  pitiable  in- 
adequacy of  their  equipment  here  served  them 
in  good  stead,  for,  being  unhampered  by  luggage, 
they  were  able  to  make  this  monotonous  part  of 
their  journey  quickly,  and  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
as  we  have  seen,  they  were  at  Kaskaskia,  whose 
inhabitants  and  little  garrison  were  in  total 
ignorance  of  their  approach  until  Clark  struck 
his  dramatic  posture  (he  was  a  great  lover  of 
this  sort  of  thing)  in  the  doorway  of  the  hall 
where  the  festivities  were  in  progress. 

We  are  not  told  whether  the  dancing  contin- 
ued, but  it  may  safely  be  inferred  that  there  was 
at  least  an  intermission. 

No  one  except  the  doughty  scout  himself  knew 
how  many  troops  were  surrounding  the  fort, 
and  he  was  not  the  man  to  tell  them  that  his 
martial  legion  consisted  of  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  of  two  hundred  frontiersmen.  In- 
stead, he  made  a  fine  show  of  power,  demanding 
the  papers  of  the  establishment,  which  were 
handed  over  to  him  and  which  revealed  com- 
pletely (if  any  such  confirmation  was  necessary) 
Great  Britain's  intriguing  with  the  Indians. 

Thus  George  Rogers  Clark,  by  his  boldness, 
almost  amounting  to  effrontery,  surprised  (in  the 
most  accurate  meaning  of  that  word)  the  remote 
old  post  of  Kaskaskia  and  took  the  town  without 
the  loss  of  a  single  life  on  either  side. 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK     11 

With  a  fine  air  of  military  autocracy,  which 
could  not  have  been  better  if  he  had  commanded 
serried  ranks  of  warriors,  he  took  the  reins  of 
government,  ordering  the  people  to  their  houses, 
and  the  people  obeyed  in  fear  and  trembling, 
pleading  for  their  lives.  They  called  the  Ken- 
tuckians  "Big  Knives,"  because  of  the  formid- 
able dirks  which  they  carried. 

After  thoroughly  impressing  the  astonished 
people  by  his  grim  assumption  of  authority,  he 
announced  (we  may  presume  with  the  same  fine 
air)  that  he  had  come  from  the  East  bringing 
them  freedom,  not  oppression,  and  besought 
their  allegiance  to  the  patriot  cause. 

Many  of  the  simple  inhabitants  were,  of  course, 
French,  and  on  hearing  from  Clark  the  tidings 
of  the  French  alliance  with  America  and  of 
the  proud  Burgoyne's  surrender,  they  were  only 
too  ready  to  salute  the  American  colors,  which 
then  for  the  first  time  were  hoisted  in  that 
quaint  settlement  on  the  banks  of  the  Father 
of  Waters. 

The  next  world  to  conquer  in  young  Clark's 
path  of  glory  was  Vincennes,  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  northeastward  on  the  Wabash 
River.  On  hearing  that  the  place  was  without 
a  garrison  and  consisted  largely  of  French  peo- 
ple, Clark  sent  a  French  missionary,  whom  he 
had  met  at  Kaskaskia,  to  take  the  place  with 
the  gentle  weapons  of  persuasion  and  kindness, 


12   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

while  lie  remained  at  Kaskaskia  to  manage  its 
affairs. 

Father  Gibault's  mission  was  in  all  ways  suc- 
cessful— a  very  model  of  Christian  conquest. 
The  inhabitants  of  Vincennes  gladly  raised  the 
American  flag  and  swore  allegiance  to  the  young 
republic,  and  shortly  thereafter  Clark  sent  a 
subordinate,  Captain  Leonard  Helm,  to  take 
charge  of  the  place. 

Meanwhile  Clark,  from  Kaskaskia,  managed 
with  great  skill  the  affairs  of  the  whole  vast 
province,  of  which  it  was  the  capital.  Not  the 
least  of  his  duties  was  to  subdue  the  Indians, 
whom  he  knew  how  to  handle  if  any  man  did, 
and  there  was  no  more  fomenting  of  discord 
and  no  more  forays  into  Kentucky. 

But  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  bloodless 
conquest  of  Vincennes  was  to  be  permanent. 

There  was  one  other  strategic  place  on  which 
we  know  that  Colonel  Clark  had  his  eye,  and 
this  was  Detroit,  far  northward  of  the  two  other 
settlements.  Here  lived  the  Eoyal  Governor  of 
the  whole  province,  William  Harrison.  When 
this  official  heard  of  the  doings  of  Colonel  Clark 
in  the  southwestern  part  of  his  domain,  his  an- 
ger knew  no  bounds  and  he  resolved  to  strike 
into  the  Wabash  River,  march  down  that  stream, 
retake  Vincennes,  and  then  march  across  the 
Illinois  country  to  the  Mississippi  and  retake 
Kaska  skia. 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK     13 

On  the  17th  of  December,  1778,  Harrison  ap- 
peared before  Vincennes  with  a  force  of  about 
one  hundred  Canadians  and  as  many  Indians. 

This  was  not  a  very  large  array,  but  it  was 
larger  than  Captain  Helm's  force,  which  con- 
sisted of  one  man.  Undaunted  by  the  imposing 
array  of  besiegers,  the  captain  hauled  his  single 
cannon  to  a  point  of  vantage  and  boldly  an- 
nounced that  the  fort  would  not  be  surrendered 
until  he  knew  what  terms  would  be  granted. 

Governor  Hamilton,  not  knowing  how  large 
the  garrison  was,  was  not  disposed  to  be  exact- 
ing, and  he  answered  that  the  troops  should 
march  out  with  all  the  honors  of  war ;  whereupon 
Captain  Helm,  with  his  single  soldier  behind 
him,  marched  solemnly  forth  and  Vincennes  was 
again  held  by  the  British. 

It  happened  about  a  month  later  that  a  trader 
and  hunter  who  had  been  held  captive  at  Vin- 
cennes reached  Kaskaskia  and  informed  Colonel 
Clark  that  the  place  had  been  taken  by  Gov- 
ernor Hamilton,  who,  having  repaired  and 
strengthened  it,  had  now  left  it  in  charge  of 
a  large  force  equipped  with  artillery. 

Clark,  nothing  daunted,  resolved  that  what- 
ever the  dangers  and  obstacles  Vincennes  should 
be  retaken.  It  was  winter  and  travel  was  diffi- 
cult, but  he  knew  that  if  he  waited  until  spring, 
Hamilton  would  be  upon  him  at  Kaskaskia,  and 
he  immediately  made  preparations  for  the  ar- 


14   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

duous  journey  which  alone  would  entitle  him  to 
an  honored  place  among  scouts  and  pathfinders. 

He  knew  that  the  force  at  Vincennes  was 
greatly  superior  both  in  numbers  and  equipment 
to  his  own  little  band  of  followers,  and  he  knew 
that  in  that  month  of  January,  after  a  season 
of  incessant  rain  and  snow,  the  trip  across  the 
Illinois  country  would  present  obstacles  well  nigh 
insurmountable.  But  he  knew,  too,  that  when 
the  war  should  end,  America  could  not  lay  claim 
to  that  vast  province  of  the  "West  unless  it  held 
Vincennes,  and  that  delay  would  probably  result 
in  his  losing  Kaskaskia  also. 

It  is  regrettable  that  Clark's  memorable 
journey  across  the  plains,  amid  alternate  snow 
and  rain  and  biting  cold,  cannot  be  recounted  in 
detail.  It  was  without  doubt  one  of  the  most 
difficult  marches  in  history.  Braving  gales  of 
unprecedented  fury,  plodding  through  vast  quag- 
mires and  crossing  rivers  which  had  spread 
into  veritable  inland  seas,  the  men  labored  on, 
drenched,  starving,  freezing — but  resolute. 

In  one  place  the  flooded  area  was  so  great  that 
they  could  not  see  beyond  the  watery  waste. 
They  built  canoes  and  rafts  and  transported 
their  diminishing  stock  of  provisions  across  mile 
after  mile  of  submerged  prairie  until  there  was 
no  food  left  to  carry  and  they  were  three  days 
without  sustenance  of  any  sort. 

The    floods    had    driven    all    game    from    the 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK     15 

vicinity  and  they  were  on  the  point  of  starving 
when  one  of  their  number  shot  a  deer  which 
providentially  had  been  caught  in  the  floods. 
Its  meat  was  divided  among  one  hundred  and 
sixty  famished  men. 

At  length,  after  three  weeks  of  such  suffering 
and  superhuman  effort  as  seem  scarcely  credible, 
the  indomitable  Clark  and  his  brave  men  crossed 
the  "Wabash  and  for  two  days  more  followed  its 
overflowed  banks  until,  standing  waist  deep  in 
the  freezing  waters,  they  were  able  to  hear  in 
the  distance  the  welcome  sound  of  the  evening 
gun  on  the  fort  at  Vincennes. 

Their  terrible  journey  was  almost  ended,  and 
even  as  they  climbed  to  higher  ground  in  their 
approach  to  the  town,  the  welcome  sun  appeared 
and  they  dried  their  soaked  clothing  in  its  cold, 
but  grateful,  radiance.  During  the  ten  preced- 
ing days  they  had  had  just  three  meals.  A 
third  of  their  journey  had  been  made  through 
water  and  all  of  it  had  been  accompanied  by 
biting  cold  and  penetrating,  wind-driven  rain  and 
snow,  and  other  untold  obstacles. 

No  battle  which  might  await  these  weary  but 
undiscouraged  men  could  test  their  courage  and 
their  grim  determination  as  that  cruel  journey 
had  tested  them! 

A  little  distance  from  the  town  Clark  paused 
and  sent  the  following  letter  by  a  French  citi- 
zen whom  he  had  met  and  taken  prisoner: 


16   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

' 'To  the  Inhabitants  of  Post  St.  Vincents: 

Gentlemen:  Being  now  within  two  miles  of 
your  village  with  my  army,  determined  to  take 
your  fort  this  night,  and  not  being  willing  to 
surprise  you,  I  take  this  method  to  request  such 
of  you  as  are  true  citizens,  and  willing  to  enjoy 
the  liberty  I  bring  you,  to  remain  still  in  your 
houses.  And  those,  if  any  there  be,  that  are 
friends  to  the  King  will  instantly  repair  to  the 
fort  and  join  the  Hair-buyer  General  *  and  fight 
like  men.  And  if  any  such,  as  do  not  go  to  the 
fort  shall  be  discovered  afterwards,  they  may 
depend  on  severe  punishment.  On  the  contrary, 
those  that  are  true  friends  to  liberty  may  de- 
pend on  being  well  treated.  And  I  once  more 
request  them  to  keep  out  of  the  streets;  for 
everyone  I  find  in  arms  on  my  arrival  I  shall 
treat  as  an  enemy. 

G.  E.  Clark." 

This  was  a  very  fine  letter  to  be  sent  by  the 
ragged,  famished  leader  of  a  little  band  of  less 
than  two  hundred  weary,  half-frozen  men,  but 
Clark's  proclamations  were  always  martial,  even 
if  his  army  were  not. 

He  now  marched  his  imposing  legion  boldly 
into  the  town,  and  with  his  usual  air  of  auto- 

*  Hamilton  is  said  to  have  offered  a  bounty  for  the  scalps 
of  "rebels." 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK     17 

cratic  power  disposed  his  hapless  men  about 
the  fort,  where  they  concealed  their  ragged  and 
shivering  forms  behind  trees,  and  began  a  lively 
rifle  fire  which  lasted  all  night.  The  garrison 
was  not  very  responsive,  supposing  it  to  be  the 
playful  pastime  of  some  drunken  Indians  until 
the  light  of  dawn  dispelled  their  illusion. 

The  rising  sun  found  Clark  and  his  men  still 
shooting  away  with  a  will  from  behind  trees 
and  hastily  improvised  breastworks,  and  the 
soldiers  in  the  fort  could  not  man  their  guns 
because  of  the  incessant  fire. 

Some  sympathetic  French  inhabitants  of  the 
village  now  regaled  the  visitors  with  a  hot 
breakfast,  and  this  so  refreshed  their  redoubt- 
able leader  that  he  straightway  sent  a  broad- 
side into  the  fort  in  the  form  of  another  letter, 
which  read: 

"Sir: 

In  order  to  save  yourself  from  the  impending 
storm  that  now  threatens  you,  I  order  you  im- 
mediately to  surrender  yourself,  with  all  your 
garrison,  stores,  etc.  For  if  1  am  obliged  to 
storm,  you  may  depend  on  such  treatment  as  is 
justly  due  to  a  murderer.  Beware  of  destroying 
stores  of  any  kind,  or  any  papers,  or  letters, 
for  by  Heavens,  if  you  do,  there  shall  be  no 
mercy  shown  you. 

G.  R.  Clark.' ' 


18   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

To  this  letter  Hamilton  sent  a  disdainful  re- 
ply, then  relaxed  and  asked  for  a  trnce  of  three 
days,  and  at  last  for  a  parley,  at  which  Colonel 
Clark  announced  (with  a  grand  air  of  finality, 
we  may  be  assured)  that  unconditional  .surren- 
der was  the  only  proposition  he  would  con- 
sider. Colonel  Hamilton  seemed  disposed  to 
consider  this  also,  and  he  asked  for  an  hour 
in  which  to  make  up  his  mind. 

The  following  morning,  upon  Clark's  promise 
to  treat  the  garrison  as  prisoners  of  war,  the 
British  marched  out,  and  once  again  the  fort 
where  the  doughty  Kentuckian  had  surprised 
the  merrymakers  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Americans. 

As  for  the  one  remaining  stronghold  of  De- 
troit, Colonel  Clark  had  not  a  sufficient  force 
to  proceed  against  it,  and  it  did  not  pass  to 
the  United  States  until  the  close  of  the  war. 
It  was  at  the  council  table,  then,  that  Benjamin 
Franklin  was  able  to  win  recognition  of  the 
Mississippi  as  our  western  boundary  by  point- 
ing to  the  tAvo  settlements  of  Kaskaskia  and 
Vincennes  which  the  boldness  and  foresight  of 
the  young  Kentucky  pioneer  had  taken  and  held 
for  his  country.  Thus,  by  reason  of  the  pos- 
session of  these  crucial  points,  the  whole  wide 
area  of  the  northwest,  between  the  Ohio  and 
the  Mississippi,  fell  to  the  young  republic  on 
the   day   of   reckoning.     And   the   nation's   un- 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARK     19 

grudging  thanks  were  due  the  brave  young  scout 
who,  scorning  wind  and  cold  and  flood,  had  made 
that  terrible  march  across  the  prairies. 

But,  sad  to  relate,  his  tardy  country  not  only 
did  not  reward  him,  but  did  not  even  refund 
the  money  which  he  had  contributed  to  his  daring 
enterprise  until  many  years  after  he  was  dead. 

His  last  years  were  pitiful  in  the  extreme. 
He  had  never  held  a  commission  in  the  Federal 
service,  and  his  commission  in  the  Virginia 
militia  was  taken  from  him — not,  however,  until 
after  he  had  served  faithfully  and  bravely  in 
many  expeditions  against  the  predatory  bands 
of  Indians  which  still  lurked  along  the  frontier. 

Clark  had  never  married  and  his  life  was 
very  lonesome  as  he  grew  old — a  sad  contrast 
to  that  of  the  average  pioneer  who,  notwith- 
standing the  roaming  propensity,  has  usually 
been  surrounded  by  children  and  grandchildren 
wherever  his  ultimate  frontier  cabin  has  been 
located.  How  different  those  last  years  in  the 
life  of  George  Rogers  Clark  from  the  declining 
days  of  glorious  old  Daniel  Boone! 

Clark  lived  alone  in  a  cabin  in  the  back- 
woods, spending  his  time  in  hunting  and  fishing 
and  at  odd  times  entertaining  his  old  frontier 
friends.  One  enemy,  too,  lurked  in  his  lonely 
home — the  enemy  of  drink,  at  whose  dissembling 
hand  he  sought  consolation  in  his  disappoint- 
ment and  abject  poverty. 


20   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

He  was  finally  stricken  with  paralysis,  and 
stumbled  into  the  fire  in  his  cabin,  burning  his 
leg  so  that  it  had  to  be  amputated.  He  asked 
that  a  fife  and  drum  be  played  while  the  tortur- 
ing operation  was  being  performed  (for  the 
blessing  of  anesthetics  was  not  known  then), 
and  he  sat  in  a  chair  watching  the  surgeons  and 
listening  to  the  stirring  music. 

At  last,  crippled,  poor  and  forlorn,  the  broken 
old  scout  sought  the  home  of  his  sister,  where 
his  last  days  were  spent  under  her  affectionate 
care.  He  died  on  February  13,  1818,  in  the 
sixty- sixth  year  of  his  age. 


DAVID   CROCKETT 

How  he  hunted  in  the  wilds  of  Tennessee;  his  own  story 
of  how  he  killed  a  bear;  how  he  became  famous  and 
was  sent  to  Congress;  and  how  he  met  a  glorious  death 
fighting  against  the  Mexicans  in  Texas. 

If  Davy  Crockett  had  done  nothing  else  than 
originate  the  motto,  Be  sure  you're  right,  then 
go  ahead,  he  would  have  been  worthy  of,  at  least, 
a  modest  place  in  our  history;  for  it  is  a  good 
motto,  and  if  one  but  follows  it,  he  is  not  likely 
to  go  astray. 

Davy  himself  did  not  always  follow  it,  though 
he  always  followed  a  part  of  it;  for,  wrong  or 
right,  he  invariably  went  ahead;  and  perhaps 
the  last  part  of  the  motto,  in  itself,  is  not  half 
bad. 

Possibly  it  was  the  strain  of  Irish  in  Davy, 
with  its  accompanying  propensity  to  blarney, 
or  perhaps  it  was  just  his  extraordinary  valor, 
which  made  him  a  favorite  among  the  southern 
maidens  of  the  young  republic.  In  any  event, 
he  had  many  friends  among  them,  but  it  is  to 
Davy  Crockett  and  Betsy  that  we  shall  here 
give  our  particular  attention. 

Betsy  was  his  trusty  rifle,  a  model  of  loyalty, 
indeed,  which  might  stand  as  a  worthy  example 

21 


22   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

to  many  another  Betsy.  For  it  served  him 
faithfully  through  life  and  stayed  by  him  in 
the  tragic  hour  of  his  heroic  death. 

Most  of  the  "stunts"  of  David's  life  (there 
is  no  other  name  by  which  to  call  them)  are 
very  well  known— Davy  himself  saw  to  that — 
and  it  is  a  pity  they  cannot  here  be  narrated  in 
detail.  We  must,  perforce,  let  our  brief  ac- 
count of  him  center  about  the  culminating  epi- 
sode of  his  astonishing  career  with  but  a  cursory 
glimpse  of  his  life  as  a  politician  and  hunter. 

Not  to  go  farther  back  into  his  interesting 
ancestry  than  one  generation,  let  us  say  that 
Crockett 's  father  was  born  on  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
and  after  a  restless,  migratory  career  he  settled 
with  his  family  in  the  mountain  country  of 
Tennessee.  In  this  wild  region,  in  a  small  set- 
tlement called  Limestone,  David  first  saw  the 
light,  on  August  seventeenth,  1786. 

Accounts  of  his  personal  appearance  as  he 
grew  to  manhood  differ  considerably,  but  agree 
in  one  particular;  namely,  that  he  was  very 
swarthy,  with  long,  straight,  jet  black  hair.  All 
accounts  agree  also  as  to  the  singular  quality 
of  his  eyes,  which  literally  glistened  with  merri- 
ment and  a  kind  of  dancing  recklessness. 

He  must  have  possessed,  indeed,  an  excep- 
tionally winning  personality,  with  a  fund  of 
humor  not  common  in  those  strenuous,  grim 
days.    Even  his  naive  boastfulness  and  grandilo- 


DAVID  CROCKETT  23 

quent  habit  of  exaggeration  appear  to  have  had 
their  part  in  establishing  an  unprecedented  popu- 
larity for  him.  Perhaps  the  secret  of  his  charm 
lay  in  the  fact  that  he  was  intensely  human. 

At  a  very  early  age,  almost  as  soon  as  he 
could  walk,  one  might  say,  he  sought  the  forest. 
It  taught  him  all  he  ever  knew;  for,  notwith- 
standing that  he  was  twice  elected  to  the  Na- 
tional Congress,  his  "book  larnin'  "  was — or, 
rather,  it  wasn't. 

His  early  life  was  characterized  by  a  refresh- 
ing spirit  of  independence  which,  at  times,  ran 
to  the  point  of  rebellion.  He  was  apprenticed 
to  a  teamster  who  took  him  to  Virginia,  where 
he  left  his  master  and,  alone,  made  an  adventur- 
ous journey  home  through  the  forest.  He  then 
went  to  school,  where  he  remained  for  less  than 
a  week. 

This  was  long  enough,  however,  to  permit  of 
at  least  one  good  fight,  in  which  he  thoroughly 
whipped  an  older  boy  who  had  attempted  to 
bully  him. 

After  this  he  played  truant,  and  liked  it  so 
much  that  he  resolved  to  make  his  truancy  per- 
manent, and  he  ran  away  from  home  altogether. 
After  a  while  he  returned  and  finding  that  the 
maidens  of  the  neighborhood  jeered  at  him  be- 
cause of  his  ignorance,  he  decided  to  go  to 
school  again. 

Completing  his  education,  such  as  it  was,  he 


24   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

succumbed  again  to  the  lure  of  the  woods,  and 
what  with  farm  labor,  hunting,  trapping,  etc., 
he  was  able  somewhat  to  assist  his  family,  who 
were  very  poor. 

When  he  was  twenty-three  years  old,  having 
the  appalling  sum  of  fifteen  dollars  saved  up, 
he  resolved  to  marry.  With  his  young  wife  he 
migrated  farther  west  and  settled  in  the  south 
central  part  of  Tennessee.  Davy  himself  tells  us 
that  they  had  things  " fixed  up  pretty  grand" 
in-  their  backwoods  home,  as  they  must  have 
had  on  their  capital  of  fifteen  dollars,  and  he 
assures  us  that  folks  can  "love  just  as  hard 
in  the  backwoods  as  any  people  in  the  whole 
country. ' ' 

Their  happiness  was  not  long-lived,  however, 
for  two  years  later  his  young  wife  died,  leaving 
the  woodsman  alone  with  his  small  children  in 
their  remote  cabin.  Shortly  thereafter  he  mar- 
ried again. 

It  was  in  this  period  of  his  life  that  he  ac- 
quired his  fame  as  a  hunter,  particularly  a  bear 
hunter,  though,  to  be  sure,  coons  also  feared 
the  deadly  aim  of  Betsy,  as  we  learn  from  the 
famous  protest  of  one  of  them  who,  according 
to  Davy,  perceived  that  resistance  was  useless 
and  politely  offered  to  come  down  out  of  the 
tree  if  he  would  refrain  from  shooting! 

But  Davy  was  not  only  good  at  shooting;  his 
own    narrative    of    his    hunting    exploits    were 


DAVID   CROCKETT  25 

hardly  less  remarkable  than  the  exploits  them- 
selves, and  we  cannot  do  better  than  let  him 
tell  in  his  own  inimitable  way  of  the  renowned 
"barking  up  the  wrong  tree"  episode,  since  the 
expression,  like  many  other  expressions  of 
Davy's,  has  become  proverbial. 

"That  night,"  he  says,  "there  fell  a  heavy 
rain,  and  it  turned  to  sleet.  In  the  morning 
all  hands  turned  out  hunting.  My  young  man 
and  a  brother-in-law  who  had  lately  settled  near 
me  went  down  the  river  to  hunt  for  turkeys,  but 
I  was  for  larger  game.  I  told  them  I  had 
dreamed  the  night  before  of  having  had  a  hard 
fight  with  a  big  black  nigger,  and  I  know'd  it 
was  a  sign  I  was  to  have  a  battle  with  a  bear; 
for  in  a  bear  country,  I  never  know'd  such  a 
dream  to  fail.  So  I  started  to  go  above  the 
harricane,  determined  to  have  a  bear.  I  had 
two  pretty  good  dogs  and  an  old  hound,  which 
I  took  along.  I  had  gone  about  six  miles  up 
the  river,  and  it  was  then  about  four  miles 
across  to  the  main  Obion;  so  I  determined  to 
strike  across  to  that,  as  I  had  found  nothing 
vet  to  kill. 

"I  got  on  to  the  river,  and  turned  down  it; 
but  the  sleet  was  still  getting  worse  and  worse. 
The  bushes  were  all  bent  down  and  locked  to- 
gether, so  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  get 
along.  In  a  little  time  my  dogs  started  a  large 
gang  of  old  turkey  gobblers,  and  I  killed  two 


26   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

of  the  biggest  sort.  I  shouldered  them  up,  and 
moved  on,  until  I  got  through  the  harricane 
again,  when  I  was  so  tired  that  I  laid  my  gob- 
blers down,  to  rest,  as  they  were  confounded 
heavy,  and  I  was  mighty  tired. 

"While  I  was  resting,  my  old  hound  went  to  a 
log  and  smelt  it  awhile,  and  then  raised  his  eyes 
towards  the  sky  and  cried  out.  Away  he  went, 
and  my  other  dogs  with  him,  and  I  shouldered 
up  my  turkeys  again,  and  followed  on  as  hard 
as  I  could  drive.  The  dogs  were  soon  out  of 
sight,  and  in  a  very  little  time  I  heard  them 
begin  to  bark.  When  I  got  to  them,  they  were 
barking  up  a  tree,  but  there  was  no  game  there. 
I  concluded  that  it  had  been  a  turkey,  and  that 
it  had  flew  away. 

"When  they  saw  me  coming,  away  they  went 
again,  and,  after  a  little  time,  began  to  bark 
as  before.  When  I  got  near  them  I  found  they 
were  barking  up  the  wrong  tree  again,  as  there 
was  no  game  there.  They  served  in  this  way 
three  or  four  times,  until  I  was  so  infernal  mad 
that  I  determined,  if  I  could  get  near  enough, 
to  shoot  the  old  hound  at  least. 

"With  this  intention  I  pushed  on  the  harder, 
till  I  came  to  the  edge  of  an  open  prairie,  and, 
looking  on  before  my  dogs,  I  saw  in  and  about 
the  biggest  bear  that  ever  was  seen  in  America. 
He  looked,  at  the  distance  he  was  from  me,  like 
a  large  black  bull.     My   dogs   were   afraid   to 


DAVID   CROCKETT  27 

attack  him,  and  that  was  the  reason  why  they 
had  stopped  so  often — that  I  might  overtake 
them.  They  were  now  almost  up  with  him,  and 
I  took  my  gobblers  from  my  back  and  hung  them 
up  in  a  sapling,  and  broke  like  a  quarter  horse 
after  my  bear,  for  the  sight  of  him  had  put  new 
springs  in  me.  I  soon  got  near  to  them,  but 
they  were  just  getting  into  a  roaring  thicket, 
and  so  I  couldn't  run  through  it,  but  had  to 
pick  my  way  along,  and  had  close  work  at  that. 
uIn  a  little  while  I  saw  the  bear  climbing  up 
a  large  black  oak  tree,  and  I  crawled  on  till  I 
got  within  about  eighty  yards  of  him.  He  was 
setting  with  his  breast  to  me,  and  so  I  put  fresh 
priming  in  my  gun  and  fired  at  him.  At  this 
he  raised  one  of  his  paws  and  snorted  loudly. 
I  loaded  again  as  quick  as  I  could,  and  fired 
as  near  the  same  place  in  his  breast  as  possible. 
At  the  crack  of  my  gun,  here  he  came  tumbling 
down;  and  the  moment  he  touched  the  ground  I 
heard  one  of  my  best  dogs  cry  out.  I  took  my 
tomahawk  in  one  hand  and  my  big  butcher-knife 
in  the  other,  and  ran  up  within  four  or  five 
paces  of  him,  at  which  he  let  my  dog  go  and 
fixed  his  eyes  on  me.  I  got  back  in  all  sorts 
of  a  hurry,  for  I  knowed  that  if  he  got  hold 
of  me,  he  would  hug  me  altogether  too  close 
for  comfort.  I  went  to  my  gun  and  hastily 
loaded  her  again,  and  shot  him  a  third  time, 
which  killed  him  for  good. 


28   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

"I  now  began  to  think  about  getting  him 
home,  but  I  didn't  know  how  far  it  was.  So 
I  left  him  and  started ;  and  in  order  to  find  him 
again,  I  would  blaze  a  sapling  every  little  dis- 
tance, which  would  show  me  the  way  back;  I 
continued  this  until  I  got  within  a  mile  of  home, 
for  there  I  knowed  very  well  where  I  was,  and 
that  I  could  easily  find  my  way  back  to  my 
blazes.  When  I  got  home,  I  took  my  brother- 
in-law  and  my  young  man  and  four  horses,  and 
went  back.  We  got  there  just  before  dark,  and 
struck  up  a  fire  and  commenced  butchering  my 
bear.  It  was  some  time  in  the  night  before  we 
finished  it,  and  I  can  assert,  on  my  honor,  that 
I  believe  he  would  have  weighed  six  hundred 
pounds.  It  was  the  second  largest  I  ever  saw. 
I  killed  one,  a  few  years  afterwards,  that  weighed 
six  hundred  and  seventeen  pounds. 

"I  now  felt  fully  compensated  for  my  suffer- 
ings in  going  after  my  powder;  and  well  satis- 
fied that  a  dog  may  be  doing  a  good  business, 
even  when  lie  seems  to  he  barking  up  the  wrong 
tree." 

We  cannot  pause  to  tell  of  Crockett's  work 
as  a  scout  under  Andrew  Jackson  in  the  Creek 
War,  nor  of  his  fights  with  Indians  and  outlaws, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  bear  and  coon  killings. 

As  the  country  became  settled  he  became  fairly 
prosperous  and  phenomenally  popular.  Twice  he 
was  elected  to  the  State  Legislature.     Nor  was 


DAVID  CROCKETT  29 

this  enough;  for  so  universally  liked  was  he  and 
so  deeply  impressed  were  his  simple  friends  and 
neighbors  with  his  captivating  air  and  his  deeds 
of  "derring  do"  that  they  sent  him  to  the  Na- 
tional Congress,  where  he  cut  an  amazing  figure, 
and  infused  a  refreshing  breath  of  humor  and 
originality  into  the  dull  sessions  of  that  august 
body. 

Having  served  two  terms,  during  which  he 
became  quaintly  famous  throughout  the  country, 
he  failed  of  re-election,  and  in  the  disappoint- 
ment and  chagrin  which  followed  his  strenuous 
campaign  he  formed  a  resolution,  the  fulfillment 
of  which  was  to  lose  him  his  life,  although  it 
helped  to  enhance  his  unique  fame. 

"As  my  country  no  longer  requires  my  serv- 
ices,' '  he  says,  "I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
go  to  Texas.  My  life  has  been  one  of  danger, 
toil  and  privation,  but  these  difficulties  I  had  to 
encounter.  .  .  .  Now  I  start  anew  upon  my  own 
hook,  and  God  only  grant  that  it  may  be  strong 
enough  to  support  the  weight  hung  upon  it.  I 
have  a  new  row  to  hoe,  a  long  and  rough  one, 
but  come  what  will,  I'll  go  ahead." 

There  is  a  note  of  pathos  in  his  own  simple 
account  of  how  he  began  that  fateful  journey. 
"The  thermometer  stood  below  freezing  as  I 
left  my  wife  and  children;  still  there  was  some 
thawing  about  the  eyelids,  a  thing  that  had  not 
happened  since  I  ran  away  from  my  father's 


30   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

home  when  a  thoughtless,  vagabond  boy.  I 
dressed  myself  in  a  clean  hunting-shirt,  put  on 
a  new  fox-skin  cap  with  the  tail  hanging  behind, 
and  took  hold  of  my  rifle  Betsy  .  .  .  and  started 
off  to  go  ahead  in  a  new  world." 

The  new  world  in  which  he  was  to  go  ahead 
was  the  present  State  of  Texas,  and  formed  then 
a  district  of  the  new  republic  of  Mexico.  There 
were,  however,  more  Americans  there  than  Mexi- 
cans, and  the  territory  was  American  in  all 
except  a  political  sense.  Most  of  the  settlers 
were  men  like  Crockett  himself — typical  fron- 
tiersmen and  expert  hunters.  They  were  not  the 
sort  of  people  to  submit  tamely  to  tyranny  and 
oppression,  and  when  these  were  imposed  by 
the  corrupt  government  of  Mexico,  they  pro- 
tested and  soon  revolted. 

This  miniature  Avar  of  independence  began  in 
1835,  and  was  pressed  with  such  vigor  by  the 
resolute  and  hardy  settlers  that  soon  San  An- 
tonio, the  principal  town,  was  taken,  and  every 
Mexican  soldier  driven  back  to  Mexico  proper. 

Near  the  town  there  stood  an  old  mission, 
built  by  the  Franciscan  monks,  which  was  known 
as  the  Mission  del  Alamo  and  which,  under  the 
simpler  appellation  of  the  Alamo  is  sadly  fa- 
mous in  our  history. 

When  Davy  Crockett,  after  his  long  and  ad- 
venturous journey,  reached  the  Alamo,  he  found 
it  converted  into  a  stronghold  and  occupied  by 


DAVID  CROCKETT  31 

about  one  hundred  and  fifty  Americans  under 
a  gallant  young  officer  named  Travis,  and  a 
certain  Colonel  Bowie,  whose  name  is  otherwise 
immortalized  by  the  famous  bowie-knife  of  which 
he  was  the  originator. 

Crockett  brought  with  him  a  dozen  or  so 
kindred  spirits,  and  the  little  band  in  their  fur 
caps  and  travel-wTorn  buckskins  was  given  a  rous- 
ing welcome. 

It  was  known  that  the  powers  in  Mexico  would 
not  long  suffer  these  triumphant  settlers  to  en- 
joy the  fruits   of  their  victory. 

They  did  not,  however,  expect  that  Santa 
Anna  himself,  usurper  and  dictator  of  Mexico, 
would  pay  them  the  high  honor  of  a  personal 
call,  and  their  surprise  may  be  imagined  when, 
on  the  23d  of  February,  1836,  this  "Napoleon 
of  the  "West"  appeared  before  the  Alamo  head- 
ing the  advance  guard  of  his  five  thousand 
trained  Mexican  troops,  and  demanded  its  sur- 
render. 

In  answer  to  this  the  little  garrison  raised 
their  flag,  and  Santa  Anna  hoisted  his  red 
ensign,  which  meant  that  no  quarter  would  be 
given  to  the  Americans.  Thus  a  little  party  of 
a  hundred  and  seventy-odd  men  hurled  defiance 
at  an  army  of  five  thousand,  notwithstanding 
that  the  result  was  inevitable. 

The  siege  continued  for  ten  days,  during  which 
time  the  Mexicans  were  repulsed  and  lost  heavily 


32   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

whenever  they  came  within  range  of  the  crack 
riflemen.  We  may  be  snre  that  Betsy  did  her 
part  in  that  brief  interim. 

At  last  Santa  Anna's  main  army  arrived. 
Historians  insist  that  right  np  to  this  time  the 
Americans  could  have  cut  their  way  out  and 
escaped,  but  apparently  no  such  thought  en- 
tered their  minds.  They  were  there  to  defend 
their  stronghold.  They  must  have  known  well 
what  their  fate  would  be;  that  their  defence, 
however  heroic,  must  be  futile;  yet  they  stood 
their  ground,  resolved  to  die  game  after  making 
the  enemy  pay  the  highest  price  their  trusty 
rifles  could  exact. 

At  dawn,  on  March  6th,  the  Americans  were 
aroused  by  the  shrill  sound  of  a  bugle.  They 
knew  what  it  meant:  the  Mexicans  were  to  be 
rallied  for  the  long-expected  charge.  As  the 
little  band  listened  to  that  attenuated  martial 
call,  so  fateful  for  them,  we  may  suppose  that 
they  thought  also  of  the  Mexicans'  red  banner, 
which  meant  no  quarter. 

It  is  related  that  Colonel  Travis  addressed  his 
men,  repeating  his  resolve  never  to  surrender, 
and  offered  his  freedom  to  any  man  who  wished 
to  escape.  None,  so  the  tradition  goes,  left  the 
Alamo. 

An  hour  or  two  of  suspense  and  then  the  walls 
of  the  old  mission  shook  with  the  misrhtv  on- 
slaught  of  Santa  Anna.     The  storming  host  was 


DAVID  CROCKETT  33 

received  with  a  rain  of  shot  from  the  Amer- 
icans, and,  as  always,  the  well-aimed  rifles  did 
their  work. 

But  they  availed  little  against  Santa  Anna's 
legion.  In  three  columns  the  Mexicans  ad- 
vanced, sometimes  thrown  into  confusion  by  the 
withering  fire  from  the  old  mission;  but  reserve 
after  reserve  filled  the  gaps,  the  storming  host 
outnumbering  the  Americans  fifteen  to  one. 

Now  they  were  close  under  the  walls,  trying 
again  and  again  to  scale  them.  The  stockade 
to  the  north  offered  a  better  chance,  and  they 
soon  concentrated  their  efforts  there,  using  scal- 
ing ladders  in  the  face  of  a  continuous  and 
deadly  fire  from  the  Americans. 

Once  close  under  the  wall,  they  enjoyed  some 
measure  of  shelter  from  the  cannon,  though  the 
toll  of  death  from  rifle  shots  was  still  terrible; 
but  the  Mexicans,  knowing  their  greatly  supe- 
rior numbers,  and  that  fresh  troops  were  hurry- 
ing to  their  support,  persisted. 

Colonel  Travis  wras  shot  dead  while  loading 
a  cannon.  Presently  the  Mexicans  had  scaled 
the  walls  and  were  swarming  into  the  Alamo. 
It  was  no  time  for  shooting  now.  The  Amer- 
icans clubbed  their  rifles  and  drew  their  swords, 
and  as  they  were  backed  against  the  wall  they 
fought,  hand  to  hand,  against  the  overwhelming 
force. 

Colonel  Bowie  lay  ill  in  an  upper  room.     The 


34   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Mexicans  rushed  in  upon  him,  and  as  they  en- 
tered he  shot  them  one  by  one  from  his  bed, 
until  he  himself  was  despatched. 

Meanwhile  Crockett  fought  desperately  in  an 
open  plaza.  Nothing  more  is  known  of  his  fate, 
thongh  traditions  are  many  as  to  exactly  how 
he  died.  One  story  runs  that  he  was  still  shoot- 
ing from  behind  a  pile  of  men  whom  he  had 
killed  when  he  was  overpowered  and  made  an 
end  of. 

One  thing,  at  least,  is  known.  His  nmtilated 
body  was  seen  lying  near  the  wall  by  an  Amer- 
ican woman  whom  Santa  Anna  had  spared. 

The  battle,  or  rather  the  massacre,  was  soon 
over,  and  only  five  wretched  prisoners  remained. 
These  were  dragged  before  Santa  Anna  and 
butchered.  Two  women,  several  children  and 
some  servants  were  spared. 

The  Mexican  loss  was  very  large — much  larger, 
indeed,  than  one  would  have  supposed  possible — 
and  testified  eloquently  to  the  heroic  resistance 
which  the  little  garrison  had  offered. 

Thus,  shrouded  in  a  kind  of  ghastly  mystery, 
ended  the  unique  career  of  Davy  Crockett — a 
splendid  type  of  scout  and  one  of  the  most  orig- 
inal characters  that  ever  lived.  So  captivating 
was  his  naive  heroism  and  so  charmingly  frank 
his  winning  nature,  that  innumerable  legends 
cluster  about  his  name,  many  of  which  doubtless 
have  slight  foundation  in  truth. 


DAVID  CROCKETT  35 

"We  may  be  sure,  however,  that  in  that  final 
bloody  scene  of  his  career,  the  trusted  Betsy  did 
not  desert  him,  but  that  he  used  both  ends  of  her, 
fighting  desperately  to  the  bitter  end  and  scorn- 
ing surrender. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  exactly  how 
he  died.  His  own  inimitable  account  of  that 
last  struggle  would  have  been  good  reading. 
But  only  a  few  terror-stricken  women  and  chil- 
dren were  left  after  the  frightful  carnage,  and 
their  recollections  were  fragmentary  and  con- 
tradictory. So,  in  a  sense,  it  may  be  said  that 
there  was  no  one  left  to  tell  the  tale  of  one  of 
the  bloodiest  and  most  unequal  hand-to-hand 
encounters  in  our  history. 

In  the  city  of  Austin,  Texas,  stands  a  monu- 
ment, commemorating  the  heroic  death  of  Crock- 
ett and  the  other  members  of  the  little  band. 
Upon  it  is  carved  this  sentence: 

Thermopylce  had  its  messenger  of  defeat; 
the  Alamo  had  none. 


SAM   HOUSTON 

How  he  fought  under  Andrew  Jackson;  how  he  lived  among 
the  Indians;  how  he  became  a  member  of  Congress; 
how  he  founded  the  Lone  Star  Republic  and  what  he 
finally  said  of  it;  together  with  what  happened  to  the 
Lone  Star  Republic ;  and  various  other  adventures  which 
befell  Sam  Houston. 

Whatever  people  may  think  of  Sam  Houston 
(and  people  have  thought  a  good  many  different 
things  about  him),  one  fact  will  be  generally 
conceded:  viz.,  that  no  other  country  than  the 
yonng  United  States  could  possibly  have  pro- 
duced him,  and  that  the  United  States,  grown 
older,  can  never  produce  such  another. 

He  was  not  only  the  first  president  of  the 
Eepublic  of  Texas,  but  its  last-  as  well.  He  was, 
indeed,  the  father  of  his  country  in  the  truest 
sense,  and  when  it  ceased  to  be  a  country  and 
became  a  state,  he  stood  by  it  and  was  the 
father  of  his  state.  "When  it  fell  into  evil  ways 
and  began  to  talk  about  secession,  he  "retired 
to  his  prairie  home"  in  high  disgust,  planted  a 
threatening  cannon  upon  his  humble  cabin  and 
told  his  rebellious  child  that  she  could  "go  to 
blazes." 

That  is  the  sort  of  man  that  Sam  Houston 
was. 

36 

i 


SAM   HOUSTON  37 

Everything  about  him  was  big,  including  his 
faults.  He  was  huge  in  stature,  he  had  a  tre- 
mendous voice,  his  ideas  were  stupendous,  his 
heart  was  as  big  as  that  of  an  ox;  and  as  for 
his  courage,  it  is  quite  enough  to  say  that  An- 
drew Jackson  was  amazed  at  it.  What  if  he 
did  appear  before  the  United  States  Secretary 
of  War  brandishing  a  tomahawk  and  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  a  Cherokee  Indian,  to  the  Secre- 
tary's great  consternation  and  annoyance?  Sam 
Houston  was  a  law  unto  himself,  and  so  we  must 
consider  him. 

Should  you  like  to  know  how  he  looked  on  no 
less  an  occasion  than  his  own  inauguration  as 
Governor  ? 

"A  tall,  bell-crowned,  medium-brimmed,  shin- 
ing black  beaver  hat,  shining  black  military 
stock  or  cravat  encased  by  a  standing  collar, 
ruffled  shirt,  satin  vest,  shining  black  silk  pants 
gathered  to  the  waistband  with  legs  full,  same 
size  from  seat  to  ankle,  and  a  gorgeous  red- 
ground,  many-colored  gown  or  Indian  hunting- 
shirt,  fastened  at  the  waist  by  a  huge  red  sash 
covered  with  fancy  bead  work,  with  an  immense 
silver  buckle,  embroidered  silk  stockings  and 
pumps  with  large  silver  buckles." 

Truly  an  imposing  figure! 

But  for  all  that  he  was  not  proud,  for  even 
after  he  became  a  general  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  beating  the  drum  himself,  believing  that  he 


38   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

could  do  it  better  than  anyone  else.  There  was 
only  one  drum  in  his  army. 

Sam  Houston  was  born  at  Timber  Ridge 
Church,  in  Rockbridge  County,  Virginia,  on  the 
2d  of  March,  1793.  He  was  of  Scotch-Irish 
ancestry.  His  father  had  fought  in  the  War 
of  Independence,  and  when  he  died  Sam's 
mother,  who  was  a  typical  pioneer  woman,  took 
her  children  westward  into  Tennessee,  where 
they  lived  in  the  wilds,  in  close  proximity  to 
the  Cherokee  Indians — that  once  warlike  tribe 
whose  power  had  been  broken  by  young  Francis 
Marion  and  others. 

Young  Sam  was  rather  more  inclined  to  study 
than  the  average  young  frontiersman,  and  while 
yet  a  boy  his  habit  of  reading  every  book  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on  gave  him  much  knowledge 
which  was  useful  in  his  political  career  years 
afterward. 

Indeed,  his  love  of  study,  so  the  story  goes, 
was  the  very  thing  which  led  him  into  a  world 
of  adventure,  for  on  being  forbidden  by  his 
unsympathetic  elder  brothers  to  study  Latin,  he 
forthwith  pocketed  his  volume  of  Pope's  Iliad 
and  sallied  forth  to  a  neighboring  village  of 
friendly  Cherokees,  among  whom  he  made  his 
home.  The  Cherokee  chief  liked  him  so  much 
that  he  adopted  him  and  young  Sam  continued 
to  lead  a  wild  life  among  the  Indians  until  he 
was  nineteen  years  old. 


SAM     HOUSTON 


SAM   HOUSTON  39 

He  was  always  thereafter  more  or  less  identi- 
fied with  the  Cherokees,  returning  to  them  from 
time  to  time  and  finding  balm  and  solace  in  their 
savage  life.  Later  he  took  a  wife  from  among 
them. 

In  1811  he  returned  to  civilization  and  started 
a  small  school  where  he  must  have  greatly  edi- 
fied his  pupils  by  the  Indian  shirt  and  long 
pigtail  which  he  wore. 

In  1813  he  joined  the  army  and  was  shortly 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  ensign.  At  that  time 
the  redoubtable  Andrew  Jackson  had  set  out  to 
crush,  once  and  for  all,  the  warlike  Creek  Indians 
who,  under  their  famous  chief,  Tecumseh,  were 
making  a  last  stand  against  the  whites  in  the 
wilds  of  Alabama. 

In  this  campaign  young  Houston  distinguished 
himself  in  such  a  manner  that  "Old  Hickory' ' 
never  forgot  it,  and  when  he  became  President 
he  supported  with  enthusiasm  the  schemes  of  his 
whilom  ensign. 

It  was  at  the  Battle  of  Horseshoe  Bend  that 
Sam  Houston,  then  not  twenty  years  of  age, 
showed  his  mettle. 

Wounded  and  bleeding  profusely,  he  was  or- 
dered to  the  rear  by  General  Jackson.  The 
General  was  not,  either  in  his  military  or  politi- 
cal career,  a  very  safe  man  to  disobey,  but  Sam 
Houston  was  out  for  glory  and  he  was  not  to 
be  deterred  by  either  a  wound  or  an  order. 


40   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Sam's  regiment  had  been  ordered  to  storm  the 
breastworks  which  the  Creek  Indians  had  erected 
and  disregarding  his  superior's  command  he  had 
rushed  forward  with  the  other  men.  He  was 
just  scaling  the  rough  parapet  when  a  barbed 
arrow  struck  him  in  the  thigh.  Heedless  of  the 
frightful  agony  he  had  tried  to  extract  the  cruel 
barb,  but  could  not  do  so. 

He  waited  until  his  comrades  were  near  and 
ordered  one  of  them  to  pull  out  the  arrow.  Twice 
the  man  tried  and  failed,  causing  him  unspeak- 
able torture. 

"Try  again,"  cried  Houston,  "and  if  you  fail 
this  time  I  will  smite  you  to  the  earth." 

With  main  strength  the  soldier  wrenched  at 
the  arrow,  tearing  it  out  and  leaving  a  great 
bleeding  gash. 

"Thank  you,  you  are  a  brave  fellow,"  said 
Sam  Houston. 

It  was  then  that  General  Jackson  ordered  him 
to  the  rear.  Young  Houston  pled  with  him  in 
vain;  as  soon  as  the  General's  back  was  turned 
he  was  in  the  thick  of  the  assault  again,  storming 
the  breastworks  at  the  head  of  his  men. 

There  soon  followed  a  bloody  hand-to-hand 
combat,  in  which  many  Indians  were  killed.  It 
was  a  complete  defeat  for  them,  but  there  still 
lurked  in  a  ravine  near  by,  which  was  covered 
by  the  breastworks,  a  large  body  of  Creek  war- 
riors, so  stationed  and  protected  that  they  could 


SAM   HOUSTON  41 

with  small  danger  to  themselves  maintain  a  con- 
tinual fire  upon  Jackson's  men.  Their  vantage 
ground  was  such  that  artillery  could  not  be  used 
against  them,  and  Jackson  called  for  volunteers 
to  make  a  charge. 

There  was  no  response  from  either  officers  or 
men  until  Sam  Houston,  springing  forward  de- 
spite his  cruel  wound,  ordered  his  platoon  to 
follow  him.  His  brave  act  is  graphically  de- 
scribed by  his  friend  and  editor,  C.  Edwards 
Lester : 

"  There  was  but  one  way  of  attack  that  could 
prevail — it  was  to  charge  through  the  port-holes 
although  they  were  bristling  with  rifles  and 
arrows,  and  it  had  to  be  done  by  a  rapid,  simul- 
taneous plunge.  As  he  was  stopping  to  rally 
his  men  and  had  levelled  his  musket  within  fiva 
yards  of  the  port-holes,  he  received  two  rifle 
balls  in  his  right  shoulder,  and  his  arm  fell 
shattered  to  his  side.  Totally  disabled,  he  turned 
and  called  once  more  to  his  men,  and  implored 
them  to  make  the  charge.  But  they  could  not 
advance.  Houston  stood  in  his  blood  till  he  saw 
it  would  do  no  good  to  stand  any  longer  and 
then  went  beyond  the  range  of  the  bullets  and 
sank  down  exhausted  to  the  earth.' ' 

Sam  Houston  had  learned  at  least  one  thing 
from  the  stoical  Indians — to  suffer  and  be  strong. 

He  was  many  months  in  recovering  and  when 
he  did  recover  he  found  that  Old  Hickory  had 


42   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

forgotten  his  disobedience  and  remembered  only 
his  bravery.    That  was  quite  like  Old  Hickory. 

With  the  help  of  Jackson's  great  influence, 
Sam  Houston,  still  a  very  young  man,  became 
one  of  the  leading  figures  in  Tennessee.  Before 
he  was  thirty-five,  he  was  elected  Governor  of 
the  State  and  it  seemed  that  Fortune  was  to 
smile  permanently  upon  him  when  suddenly, 
during  his  campaign  for  re-election,  he  dropped 
his  canvass,  left  his  home  and  his  young  bride 
of  six  weeks,  and  went  back  to  resume  his  wild 
life  among  the  Cherokee  Indians. 

No  one  knows  why  he  did  this  extraordinary 
thing.  He  was  good  enough  to  say  that  the 
young  lady  was  in  no  way  to  blame,  although 
there  have  been  historians  who  appeared  to  think 
that  they  knew  more  about  it  than  Sam  himself 
did. 

It  had  been  said  that  he  was  stung  by  the  lies 
of  his  enemies,  but  surely  the  hero  of  Horseshoe 
Bend  who  could  calmly  watch  while  a  jagged 
arrow  was  torn  out  of  his  flesh,  ought  to  have 
been  able  to  bear  the  barbed  arrows  of  slander 
in  a  political  campaign.  In  any  event,  if  a  man 
wishes  to  repudiate  his  bride  of  six  weeks  to 
go  and  live  with  the  Indians,  he  should  have 
a  very  much  better  excuse  than  this;  and  the 
best  comment  to  make  is  just  that  Sam  Houston 
was  a  puzzle. 

The   life  which  he  led  among  the   Cherokees 


SAM   HOUSTON  43 

was  romantic  and  adventurous,  but  not  alto- 
gether creditable.  He  followed  the  trails  with 
them,  hunted  with  them,  and,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
drank  with  them,  for  they  called  him  Big  Drunk, 
which  is  not  a  complimentary  name  for  the  sol- 
dier and  patriot  who  founded  the  Texan  Eepublic. 

For  one  year  he  led  this  wild,  reckless  life, 
then  he  came  forth  as  one  risen  from  the  dead 
and  returned  to  civilization.  Clad  in  a  most 
outlandish  garb  he  made  his  way  to  Washington 
and  to  the  White  House  where  he  knew  he  might 
be  sure  of  a  friendly  welcome.  Andrew  Jackson 
received  him  with  open  arms. 

At  that  time  Texas  was  a  province  of  Mexico. 
For  some  time  the  Mexican  Government  had 
encouraged  foreign  settlement  within  this  large 
domain  and  it  was  now  beginning  to  realize  the 
unwisdom  of  such  a  course,  for  there  were  more 
Americans  there  than  Mexicans  and  they  were 
not  at  all  agreeable  to  the  despotic  form  of 
government  favored  by  the  cruel  Santa  Anna, 
President  of  the  Mexican  republic,  who  was  in 
reality  a  dictator. 

In  1829  President  Jackson  had  offered  to  buy 
Texas,  and  although  Mexico  had  indignantly 
refused  the  proposal,  it  had  nevertheless  aroused 
her  to  the  realization  that  her  province  of  Texas 
was  rather  more  friendly  to  the  United  States 
than  to  herself. 

It  was,  indeed,  too  late  for  the  Mexican  Gov- 


44   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ernment  to  stem  the  tide  and  there  was  no 
sleight-of-hand  by  which  Texas  could  be  conjured 
into  a  loyal  province  with  Mexican  sympathies. 
But  Santa  Anna  tried  the  impossible,  by  impos- 
ing tyrannical  laws  and  unreasonable  restrictions 
and  the  natural  consequence  was  a  vigorous  re- 
volt of  the  hardy  settlers. 

The  story  of  Davy  Crockett  tells  of  the  cruel 
methods  of  Santa  Anna  in  trying  to  stamp  out 
the  spirit  of  freedom.  The  massacre  at  the 
sadly  famous  Alamo  was  only  one  of  his  vile 
deeds. 

It  was  to  this  scene  of  disorder  that  Sam 
Houston  now  betook  himself.  It  is  said  that  he 
went  at  the  instigation  of  President  Jackson,  who 
wished  for  nothing  better  than  a  successful  revo- 
lution which  would  bring  the  troubled  and  tur- 
bulent Texas  headlong  into  the  Union. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Houston  went  and  scarcely 
had  he  reached  the  scene  when  he  became  the 
hero  of  the  occasion.  This  was  in  December, 
1832. 

We  cannot  pause  to  narrate  in  detail  the  story 
of  the  revolution  of  the  American  settlers  in 
Texas.  For  a  while  things  went  against  them, 
as  the  ghastly  death  of  Crockett  and  his  com- 
rades in  the  Alamo  testifies.  And  when  Santa 
Anna  had  glutted  himself  with  a  still  more  in- 
human massacre  at  Coliad  he  believed  that  the 
Americans  had  been  thoroughly  cowed  and 
punished. 


SAM   HOUSTON  45 

That  is  where  he  made  the  mistake  of  his  life, 
for  encamped  on  the  Colorado  River  was  a  small 
body  of  less  than  one  thousand  frontiersmen  in 
command  of  an  American  scout  and  Indian 
fighter — the  giant,  Sam  Houston. 

There  is  no  space  in  which  to  follow  the  cam- 
paign that  ensued.  The  Americans  were  out- 
numbered many  times.  Moreover,  they  were  but 
a  band  of  undrilled  frontiersmen  with  no  bayo- 
nets and  no  artillery — nothing  but  their  rifles 
and  bowie  knives.  They  had  no  camping  outfits 
and  there  was  but  one  drum  among  them. 

Against  this  hapless  band  was  the  well-drilled 
and  triumphant  legion  of  Santa  Anna. 

A  David  and  Goliath  contest  indeed! 

Yet  the  tact  and  skill  and  courage  of  the  old 
trailer  prevailed.  After  a  campaign  of  forced 
marches  and  of  hide-and-seek  tactics,  which  must 
have  astonished  the  haughty  Santa  Anna,  he  was 
actually  taken  prisoner  by  the  rough  old  scout 
whom  he  had  disdained.  On  April  21,  1836, 
two  months  after  the  murder  of  Crockett  and 
his  brave  companions,  was  fought  the  Battle  of 
San  Jacinto  where  Sam  Houston  and  eight  hun- 
dred Texans  utterly  routed  the  Mexican  army 
and  put  an  end  .to  Santa  Anna's  cruelties  forever. 

The  battle  cry  on  that  momentous  occasion 
was  "Remember  the  Alamo!"  And  who  shall 
say  that  the  spirit  of  Davy  Crockett  was  not 
present  to  witness  this  triumph  of  as  good  a 


46   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

scout  and  fighter  as  himself  as  he  exacted  retri- 
bution for  the  massacre  in  the  old  Mission? 

Whatever  people  may  have  thought  of  Sam 
Houston's  peculiarities  and  however  much  his 
friends  may  have  deplored  his  faults,  he  was 
now  acclaimed  a  hero.  The  whilom  Big  Drunk 
had  freed  Texas  and  captured  the  tyrant  and 
no  honor  was  too  great  for  him. 

The  long-troubled  province  now  became  a 
republic  and  its  liberator  was  elected  as  its 
president. 

Houston  was  quite  willing  that  his  little  re- 
public should  become  a  part  of  the  United  States, 
but  the  United  States  now  would  have  none 
of  this,  for  the  distant  rumblings  of  the  great 
slavery  agitation  were  already  to  be  heard  in 
the  land  and  Uncle  Sam  doubtless  felt  that  there 
were  quite  enough  slave  states  already. 

In  1845,  however,  with  the  full  concurrence  of 
the  Texan  people,  the  Lone  Star  Eepublic  be- 
came the  State  of  Texas,  and  Sam  Houston  was 
sent  to  "Washington  as  Senator.  He  wore  a 
manv-colored  Mexican  blanket  and  was  wont  to 
whittle  shingles  with  his  bowie  knife  while  listen- 
ing to  congressional  debates.  Whenever  the 
rights  of  the  Indians  came  in  question,  however, 
he  would  lay  aside  his  handiwork  and  let  his 
thunderous  voice  rise  in  their  defense — in  grate- 
ful memory,  perhaps,  of  his  old  life  among  the 
hospitable  Cherokees. 


SAM   HOUSTON  47 

We  cannot  follow  his  political  career.  The 
eve  of  the  Civil  War  found  him  governor  of  his 
beloved  state.  Old  in  years,  but  still  vigorous 
and  affecting  still  his  motley  garb,  he  shook 
his  old  clenched  fist  at  those  who  talked  of 
secession. 

His  attitude  made  him  very  unpopular.  He 
refused  to  take  the  Confederacy's  oath  of  alle- 
giance and  was  ousted  from  office.  In  that 
exciting  time  it  was  the  rule  in  the  Confederacy 
that  all  men  over  sixteen  must  register  and 
carry  a  pass  when  traveling.  Sam  Houston 
refused  to  do  either.  When  his  pass  was  de- 
manded of  him,  he  thundered,  "San  Jacinto  is 
my  pass  through  Texas !"     They  let  him  pass. 

After  his  deposition  from  office  he  retired  to 
his  home  (of  which  he  had  seen  but  little,  to 
be  sure)  at  Huntsville,  Texas.  Here  he  was 
fond  of  wearing  his  old  San  Jacinto  uniform. 

Though  he  had  opposed  secession,  his  staunch 
old  spirit  rebelled  at  the  thought  of  his  beloved 
state  invaded  by  Federal  troops,  and  he  raised 
his 'crutch  in  the  air  and  shook  it  triumphantly 
when  the  Union  army  was  driven  from  her  soil. 
He  had  done  all  he  could  to  prevent  secession, 
but  the  die  being  cast  his  allegiance  was  with 
the  cause  of  the  South. 

He  lived  to  the  age  of  seventy,  when  his  old 
wounds  began  to  trouble  him  and  he  became 
crippled  and  very  feeble.    He  died  in  his  Hunts- 


48   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ville  home,  on  the  26th  of  July,  1863,  three 
weeks  after  General  Grant  had  taken  Vicksbnrg. 
His  last  words  were  " Texas!  Texas!"  and 
"Margaret!" 

Margaret  was  his  third  wife.  Perhaps  as  he 
uttered  her  name  he  thought  of  that  bride  of 
long  ago  whom  he  had  repudiated;  and  perhaps 
as  he  uttered  the  words  " Texas — Texas!"  he 
thought  of  the  ungrateful  state  which  had  re- 
pudiated him. 

Sam  Houston  was  a  strange  combination — a 
man  remarkable  in  many  ways.  Like  Daniel 
Boone,  he  loved  the  forest  and  its  wild  life  for 
their  own  sake,  though  not  enough  to  give  him- 
self up  to  them  as  did  the  great  Kentucky 
pioneer.  The  world  knows  him  chiefly  as  an 
odd  character,  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  statesman 
of  no  mean  attainments.  But  in  the  intervals 
of  his  military  and  political  career,  he  was 
wont  to  seek  the  forest  and  become  a  back- 
woodsman. 

In  the  period  between  his  two  incumbencies 
as  governor  of  Texas,  and  after  his  fame  was 
fully  established,  he  built  himself  a  log  cabin 
in  the  wilderness  and  lived  a  life  of  primitive 
simplicity  and  wildness.  He  was  an  expert 
tracker,  a  crack  shot,  a  superb  horseman;  and 
no  man,  unless  it  was  John  Eliot  of  old,  ever 
became  so  thoroughly  familiar  as  he  with  Indian 
life.    He  understood  not  only  their  language,  but 


SAM   HOUSTON  49 

their  thoughts  and  their  feelings;  and  they  evi- 
dently understood  him,  which  is  more  than  can 
be  said  of  some  of  his  white  brethren. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  his  life  as  a  woods- 
man and  scout  should  have  to  take  a  subordinate 
place  in  his  career.  But  perhaps  this  is  in- 
evitable. If  Daniel  Boone  had  been  elected 
Governor  of  Kentucky,  and  had  been  sent  to 
Washington  as  Senator,  we  should  doubtless 
lose  much  of  the  wonderful  romance  which  clings 
like  a  vine  about  his  beloved  name. 


KIT   CARSON 

How  tie  first  hit  the  Old  Trail;  how  he  performed  a  surgical 
operation;  how  he  hunted  and  fought  the  Indians;  how 
he  acted  as  peacemaker;  together  with  sundry  feats  and 
adventures  of  this  famous  plainsman. 

A  good  scout  was  Kit  Carson,  who  was  con- 
siderate enough  to  adventure-loving  youth  not 
to  run  for  office  and  waste  the  precious  years 
in  Congress  which  he  might  spend  out  hunting 
and  tracking  Indians. 

He  was  a  scout,  a  whole  scout,  and  nothing 
but  a  scout — first,  last,  and  always. 

His  proper  name  was  Christopher,  but  he 
hardly  recognized  it  himself  and  history  and 
story  do  not  recognize  it  at  all.  He  did  so 
many  things  that  the  mere  record  of  his  birth 
and  death  seem  prosy  enough,  but  it  may  as  well 
be  recorded  that  he  was  born  in  Madison  County, 
Kentucky,  on  Christmas  Day,  in  1809. 

His  early  years  were  spent  on  the  Old  Santa 
Fe  Trail.  From  1829  to  1838  he  was  a  trapper 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  during  which  time  he 
married  an  Indian  girl.  His  second  marriage, 
to  a  Spanish  maiden,  occurred  in  1843.     From 

50 


©  Century  Co. 


CHRISTOPHER     (KIT)     CARSON 
From  a  photograph  taken  about  1863 


KIT    CAESON  51 

1838  to  1842  he  was  hunter  and  captain  of 
trappers  for  Bent's  Fort,  a  hunting  headquar- 
ters and  trading-post  along  the  Arkansas.  He 
accompanied  Fremont  as  a  guide  and  hunter 
on  the  famous  exploring  expedition  of  1843-44 
to  the  Great  Salt  Lake  and  California,  return- 
ing by  the  Old  Trail  and  through  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  was  with  Fremont  on  his  sub- 
sequent expedition  into  California,  and  was 
scout  under  him  in  the  conquest  of  that  terri- 
tory in  1846.  He  served  as  a  transcontinental 
express  messenger  in  1847-48,  and  in  the  latter 
year  acted  as  a  ranger  in  the  outposts  of  Cali- 
fornia. In  1850  he  served  as  an  army  scout 
in  expeditions  against  the  Indians.  In  1853  he 
became  a  gentle  shepherd  and  drove  30,000  sheep 
overland  to  California.  He  became  a  colonel 
in  the  army  and  served  in  innumerable  battles 
with  the  red  men.  At  odd  times  in  his  varied 
career  he  was  a  ranchman,  a  military  commis- 
sioner, a  guide,  trapper,  hunter,  trail  detective 
and,  indeed,  he  served  in  about  every  capacity 
and  occupied  every  post  incidental  to  the  old 
caravan  days  and  frontier  life.  Yet  he  was  not 
sixty  years  old  when  he  died. 

Carson  was  rather  below  the  average  stature, 
and  appears  to  have  been  of  the  wiry  type  and 
rather  delicate  looking.  His  nature  was  very 
simple  and  lovable.  He  was  modest  and  un- 
assertive, and  averse  to  telling  of  his  own  deeds. 


52   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

It  goes  without  saying  that  his  bravery  was 
conspicuous,  and  he  showed  a  superb  coolness 
in  the  face  of  danger. 

In  1868,  during  a  visit  to  his  son  at  Fort 
Lyon,  in  Colorado,  he  wTas  stricken  with  apo- 
plexy while  riding  his  horse,  a  recreation  which 
he  continued  to  enjoy  even  after  ill  health  had 
compelled  him  to  give  up  active  life.  His  death 
was  almost  instantaneous.  This  occurred  on 
May  23d. 

His  remains  wTere  later  taken  to  his  old  home 
in  New  Mexico,  where  a  monument  was  erected 
over  them. 

It  would  be  quite  futile  to  attempt  a  con- 
secutive brief  narrative  of  Kit  Carson's  adven- 
tures. They  seem  to  be  piled  up  all  about,  and 
the  best  one  can  hope  to  accomplish  is  to  select 
certain  conspicuous  instances  of  his  prowess  and 
present  them  by  way  of  amplifying  the  fore- 
going capitulation. 

While  Kit  was  still  very  young,  his  parents 
emigrated  to  the  frontier  region  of  Missouri, 
where  the  boy  was  apprenticed  to  a  harness- 
maker,  a  singularly  prosaic  calling  for  so  ro- 
mantic a  youth,  and  he  did  not  follow  it  long. 

The  Carson  home,  which  was  hardly  more 
than  a  frontier  cabin,  was  in  Howard  County, 
and  the  great,  tortuous  Missouri  Kiver  flowed 
near  b}^. 

Not  so  far  to  the  west  of  Kit's  lonely  home 


KIT    CARSON  53 

the  river  flowed  near  to  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  which  ran  from  eastern 
Kansas  to  Santa  Fe,  and  was  the  highway  of 
caravans  of  pack  mules  and  later  of  great  lum- 
bering prairie  wagons,  the  lurking  place  of 
Comanches  and  Apaches  and  Mexican  bandits, 
the  haunt  of  trapper  and  scout. 

It  was  a  romantic  and  historic  trail,  the  scene 
of  many  desperate  deeds,  and  abounding  in  a 
variety  of  scenic  grandeur. 

We  may  be  sure  that  young  Kit  often  saw 
the  bands  of  traders  and  immigrants  passing 
up  the  river  on  their  way  to  the  Old  Trail,  and 
that  the  sight  of  these  bold  adventurers  tilled 
him  with  longing  to  follow  them  to  the  ancient 
highway  which  crossed  the  vast  plains  and 
wound  its  tortuous  way  among  the  rocky  fast- 
nesses farther  west  and  so  to  the  quaint  old 
Mexican  city. 

Once,  when  Kit  was  scarcely  seventeen,  a 
party  of  traders  passed  near  his  home,  and  he 
begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  accompany 
them. 

"Of  what  use  would  you  be  to  us?"  one  of 
the  traders  asked. 

"I  can  shoot,"  said  Kit. 

"Well,  then,  let  us  see  you  shoot,"  said  the 
trader. 

Kit  gave  a  specimen  of  his  shooting  and  they 
forthwith  not  only  consented  to  let  him  go,  but 


54   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

implored  his  parents  to  consent.  Shooting  like 
his  was  needed  along  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail. 

So  young  Kit  joined  the  caravan,  and  that 
was  the  beginning  of  his  career  of  adventure. 

His  first  notable  feat,  however,  was  not  one 
of  shooting,  but  rather  of  surgery,  although  we 
have  neglected  to  mention  his  surgical  skill,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  novelty  of  his  methods. 

The  party  had  not  proceeded  far  when  one 
of  the  teamsters,  through  carelessness,  shot 
himself  with  his  rifle,  crushing  the  bone  of  his 
arm,  and  after  a  few  days  the  wound  gave  signs 
of  blood  poisoning. 

It  was  decided  that  only  by  amputating  the 
arm  could  his  life  be  saved,  but  there  were  no 
physicians  in  the  party,  and  no  one  seemed 
disposed  to  perform  the  operation  until  young 
Kit  Carson  stepped  forward  and  offered  to  "do 
the   job." 

He  admitted  that  he  had  no  experience  in 
such  matters,  and  that  his  only  tools  were  a 
razor,  a  saw,  and  the  king-bolt  of  a  wagon. 

The  unhappy  teamster,  with  the  alternative 
of  certain  death  confronting  him,  consented, 
and  Kit  performed  the  operation,  cutting  with 
the  razor,  sawing  through  the  bone  and  searing 
the  wound  with  the  white  hot  bolt.  The  opera- 
tion was  a  complete  success  and  the  one-armed 
teamster  was  the  companion  of  Kit  Carson  on 
many  an  adventure  in  the  years  to  follow. 


KIT    CAESON  55 

While  Kit  was  hunter  at  Bent's  Fort  his  repu- 
tation as  a  crack  shot  spread  through  the  whole 
TTest.  His  was  the  task,  and  often  a  hard  one, 
of  keeping  forty  mouths  supplied  with  food. 
He  came  to  be  known  as  the  "Nestor  of  the 
Eocky  Mountains." 

Some  of  the  legends  which  cluster  about  this 
period  of  his  career  have  a  little  flavor  of  the 
Arabian  Nights,  but  undoubtedly  there  is  a 
basis  of  truth  in  most  of  them. 

On  one  occasion  he  is  said  to  have  hung  from 
a  tree  with  one  arm  and  so  manipulated  his 
gun  with  the  other  as  to  shoot  two  grizzlies! 

With  this  redoubtable  hunter  of  the  Eockies, 
shooting  buffaloes  on  the  plains  was  mere  child's 
play.  It  is  said  that  he  could  often  maneuver 
his  quarry  into  such  a  position  as  to  shoot  and 
kill  two  with  one  shot. 

The  powerful  Utes  of  the  mountains  knew  him 
well,  as  did  also  the  tribes  of  the  plains,  and 
when  they  were  peaceable  he  was  their  friend. 

On  one  occasion  the  warlike  Sioux  had  tres- 
passed upon  the  hunting-ground  of  the  plains 
Indians,  as  a  consequence  of  which  there  was 
much  bloody  righting  along  the  Old  Trail.  The 
plains  Indians,  who  were  getting  much  the  worst 
of  it,  finally  in  desperation  asked  their  trusted 
friend,  Kit  Carson,  to  help  them. 

Instead  of  leading  them  forth  to  battle,  as 
they  had  supposed  he  would  do,  he  went  himself 


56   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

to  the  Sioux,  who  indeed  were  in  anything  but 
a  conciliatory  mood,  to  act  as  mediator.  It  was 
a  bold  move,  which  none  but  Kit  Carson  would 
have  attempted.  The  Sioux  were  confounded  at 
sight  of  him,  and  it  is  a  tribute  to  his  prowess 
and  an  evidence  of  the  magic  of  his  name  that 
this  warlike  tribe  agreed  to  withdraw  from  the 
plains  and  cease  their   encroachments. 

At  one  time  in  his  career,  shortly  after  he  had 
returned  from  one  of  the  adventurous  expedi- 
tions with  Fremont,  he  settled  (if  such  a  crea- 
ture could  be  said  ever  to  settle)  on  a  ranch  in 
New  Mexico,  and  scarcely  had  he  taken  up  his 
abode  there  when  the  ferocious  Apaches  made 
one  of  their  murderous  raids  through  the  dis- 
trict, leaving  woe  and  destruction  everywhere. 
A  man  by  the  name  of  White,  living  near  Santa 
Fe,  was  massacred,  along  with  his  son,  and  the 
women  and  children  of  his  household  were  car- 
ried off  into  the  mountain  fastnesses. 

Horror  and  consternation  reigned  in  the  coun- 
tryside after  this  bloody  deed,  and  all  looked 
to  Kit  Carson  for  help.  Wrathful  and  terror- 
stricken  though  they  were,  they  would  do  noth- 
ing until  he  arrived. 

When  he  came  a  party  wTas  organized  which 
took  the  trail,  riding  day  and  night  in  the  hope 
of  overtaking  the  savages.  At  last,  after  a 
weary  pursuit,  they  came  upon  the  Indians  in 
a  rocky  fastness  of  the  mountains,  and  Carson 


KIT    CAESON  57 

dashed  in,  supposing,  of  course,  that  his  men 
would  follow  him. 

But,  instead  of  following  him,  they  stood 
gaping  in  amazement  at  the  reckless  bravery 
of  their  leader.  Not  realizing  that  he  was  alone, 
Carson  rode  on,  and  did  not  discover  his  plight 
until  he  was  in  the  Indian  stronghold. 

It  was  only  his  wonderful  coolness  and  pres- 
ence of  mind  that  saved  him.  As  the  Indians 
made  for  him,  he  dropped  to  the  off  side  of 
his  horse  with  such  dexterity  that  they  hardly 
saw  him,  and  dashed  back  to  where  his  party 
was  waiting.  Six  arrows  in  his  horse  and  one 
in  his  own  coat  testified  to  the  narrowness  of 
his  escape. 

We  may  imagine  with  what  righteous  wrath 
the  fearless  scout  addressed  his  cowardly  com- 
panions. "Why  did  you  send  for  me?"  he  de- 
manded. His  withering  scorn  had  the  effect  of 
rallying  them,  and  they  charged  against  the 
Indians,  who  fled  pell-mell,  without  offering  the 
slightest  resistance.  They  knew  Kit  Carson. 
Five  of  their  number  were  killed.  But  the  party 
had  arrived  too  late  to  rescue  the  white  captives, 
whose  dead  bodies  were  found  in  the  forsaken 
camp. 

At  that  time  the  Comanche  Indians  were  at 
war  with  the  whites,  as,  indeed,  they  were  a 
great  deal  of  the  time  in  those  early  days. 

On  one  occasion  Kit  Carson  was  conducting  a 


58   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

company  of  soldiers  through  the  Comanche  conn- 
try.  Beaching  a  spot  along  the  Old  Trail  known 
as  Point  of  Bocks,  they  fell  in  with  a  company 
of  young  men  who  had  volunteered  for  the  Mex- 
ican AVar,  and  the  two  parties  camped  in  close 
proximity. 

In  the  morning,  as  the  horses  of  the  volun- 
teers were  being  led  to  pasture,  a  band  of  In- 
dians captured  every  animal,  and  their  herders, 
in  a  panic,  rushed  into  Carson's  camp. 

It  was  a  good  place  to  rush  to.  Summoning 
his  men,  Carson  sallied  forth,  and  after  a  brisk 
fight  with  the  astonished  savages,  he  recaptured 
most  of  the  animals  for  their  owners.  When 
he  learned  that  the  theft  had  been  made  possible 
by  a  careless  guard,  who  had  fallen  asleep,  he 
immediately  insisted  that  the  culprit  should  suf- 
fer the  punishment  customary  along  the  Old 
Trail,  which  was  to  wear  the  dress  of  an  Indian 
squaw  for  one  day. 

Carson  then  proceeded  with  his  company  to 
Santa  Fe,  where  he  parted  with  them,  having 
successfully  acted  as  their  guide  through  a  wild 
and  hostile  country. 

One  night,  as  he  was  lolling  about  in  the  mar- 
ket-place of  the  old  Mexican  city,  he  heard  some 
talk  about  two  wealthy  traders  who  had  lately 
hit  the  Old  Trail  for  the  states,  and  he  listened 
with  keen  attention  as  the  conversation  turned 
upon   the    doubtful    character    of   their   guides. 


KIT    CARSON  59 

It  was  suspected  that  these  were  none  other 
than  a  band  of  notorious  robbers,  and  from  the 
forebodings  which  he  heard  expressed  Kit  felt 
certain  that  the  unsuspecting  travelers  were  in 
grave  danger  of  their  lives. 

In  less  than  an  hour  he  was  at  the  head  of 
a  few  picked  men,  hurrying  through  a  short-cut 
in  the  mountains.  He  had  to  look  out  for 
hostile  Indians  here,  but  he  knew  their  haunts 
and  habits  and  was  not  easily  surprised. 

On  the  second  day  the  party  fell  in  with  a 
company  of  United  States  troops,  on  their  way 
to  New  Mexico,  who  offered  to  join  them.  Their 
offer  was  accepted  and  presently  the  party 
reached  the  Trail  and  came  in  sight  of  the 
caravan  lumbering  along  some  distance  ahead. 

Riding  forward,  Kit  Carson  made  straight  for 
the  chief  guide,  a  desperado  whom  he  knew 
named  Fox,  and  clapped  a  pair  of  handcuffs 
upon  him.  It  presently  appeared  that  this  man 
was  accompanied  by  about  thirty  conspirators 
masquerading  as  a  convoy. 

Carson's  shrewdness  and  long  experience  of 
the  Trail  enabled  him  promptly  to  single  out 
Fox's  men,  and  these  were  rounded  up  and  driven 
from  the  camp.  Their  leader,  against  whom  the 
evidence  of  criminal  intent  was  conclusive,  was 
taken  back  to  Santa  Fe,  where  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  meditate  in  jail  on  the  lightning-like 
and  decisive  methods  of  his  captor. 


60   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

When  the  caravan  returned  from  St.  Louis, 
the  grateful  traders  brought  a  pair  of  handsome 
silver-mounted  pistols  to  Kit  Carson  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  brave  and  generous  act. 

In  those  days  it  often  happened  that  trouble 
occurred  through  the  mistaken  zeal  of  United 
States  troops,  in  dealing  with  the  Indians.  Car- 
son had  often  said  that  much  bloodshed  might 
be  spared  if  the  army  officers  would  but  study 
the  red  men,  endeavor  to  get  their  point  of  view, 
and,  when  possible,  negotiate  with  them. 

He,  of  all  scouts,  stands  forever  as  the  shining 
example  of  intelligent  and  kindly  firmness  in 
dealing  with  the  Indians.  He  never  fought  them 
wantonly,  nor  to  make  a  show  of  power  in  order 
to  intimidate  them.  The  many  instances  of  his 
successful  negotiation  with  them  remind  one  of 
the  gentle  William  Penn.  He  had  small  sym- 
pathy with  the  employment  of  the  "  leaden  argu- 
ment''  until  other  arguments  had  failed.  Then 
his  leaden  argument  went  straight  to  the  mark. 
The  Indians  knew  this,  and  they  respected  him 
and  trusted  him. 

At  one  time,  as  he  was  returning  along  the 
Old  Trail  from  a  visit  to  St.  Louis,  he  learned 
of  a  rash  act  committed  by  a  United  States 
officer  in  command  of  a  small  body  of  troops 
in  the  vicinity.  The  officer  had  administered  a 
thrashing  to  an  Indian  chief. 

Now,  if  you  thrash  an  Indian  chief,  it  may 


KIT    CARSON  61 

safely  be  averred  that  you  will  hurt  at  least 
his  feelings,  if  you  hurt  nothing  else,  and  the 
humiliated  potentate's  faithful  subjects  were 
burning  with  shame  and  rage  at  this  ignoble 
treatment  of  their  sovereign  lord. 

It  befell  that  Kit  Carson  rode  with  a  small 
caravan  through  the  country  of  this  tribe  just 
as  their  anger  was  at  its  height,  and  it  was  a 
bold  and  reckless  act  to  venture  into  that  pre- 
cinct of  wrathful  mortification  following  hard 
upon  the  royal  flogging. 

Carson  was  the  first  white  man  to  face  this 
blackening  cloud  of  fury,  but  he  rode  on  ahead 
of  the  company,  and,  with  characteristic  un- 
concern, galloped  straight  into  a  council  of  war 
then  being  held  by  the  Indians  who,  of  course, 
knew  of  the  approach  of  the  party. 

They  knew  who  he  was  and,  believing  that  he 
could  not  understand  their  language,  they  al- 
lowed him  to  sit  among  them  while  they  pro- 
ceeded with  their  pow-wow.  When  the  flow  of 
belligerent  eloquence  had  ceased,  Kit  rose  from 
his  seat  and,  to  their  dismay,  addressed  them 
in  their  own  tongue.  . 

He  told  them  that  he  had  listened  with  great 
attention  to  their  warlike  plans,  particularly  to 
the  interesting  plot  to  scalp  his  whole  party. 
He  politely  intimated  that  it  would  not  be  wise 
to  attempt  this,  and  that  it  would  be  an  alto- 


62   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

gether  inappropriate  reprisal  for  the  chastise- 
ment of  their  chief. 

Utterly  confounded  by  his  audacity  and  per- 
fect familiarity  with  their  language,  the  Indians 
indulged  the  sober  second  thought  and  said  that 
they  would  visit  their  revenge  upon  the  proper 
victim — if  they  ever  caught  him. 

But  Kit's  audacious  bravery  did  not  run  to 
the  point  of  heedlessness,  and  he  and  his  little 
party  kept  a  weather  eye  open  for  trouble  as 
they  proceeded  on  their  way.  He  soon  perceived 
that  Indians  were  still  lurking  near  them. 

It  is  said  that  of  the  fifteen  men  who  accom- 
panied him,  only  two  were  of  a  sort  to  be  of 
any  assistance  in  a  fight,  and  that  he  knew  this. 

When  the  little  party  camped  for  the  night 
the  wagons  were  formed  into  a  circle,  with  the 
men  and  animals  inside.  TVhen  all  was  quiet 
Kit  crept  out,  taking  with  him  a  small  Mexican 
boy  on  whom  he  knew  he  could  rely  and  to  whom 
he  explained  that  they  were  surrounded  by  red 
men;  that  an  attack  might  be  made  at  any  time, 
and  that  their  only  hope  lay  in  communicating 
at  once  with  the  troops  at  Eayedo,  a  distance 
of  more  than  two  hundred  miles. 

The  little  fellow,  who  was  a  sort  of  Man  Fri- 
day to  the  famous  scout,  mounted  his  horse  and 
hurried  off  along  the  lonely  trail  to  summon 
help. 

The  story  of  that  ride  would  be  a  thrilling  tale 


KIT    CARSON  63 

in  itself.  After  a  time  the  boy  came  up  with 
the  soldiers  whose  commander  had  caused  so 
much  needless  trouble,  and,  astonishing  though 
it  may  seem,  this  hero  refused  to  turn  about 
and  go  to  the  aid  of  the  threatened  caravan. 
His  specialty  was  evidently  flogging,  not  righting. 

Beaching  Rayeclo,  the  boy  announced  his  er- 
rand to  Major  Grier,  the  commander  of  the  post, 
and  soon  a  detachment  was  on  its  way  to  meet 
Carson  and  his  party.  The  red  men  were  prop- 
erly sobered  by  the  sight  of  the  soldiers  passing 
along  the  Old  Trail,  and  the  meeting  with  the 
Carson  party  was  effected  without  accident. 

But  there  had  been  slow  hours  of  anxious 
waiting  for  Kit  Carson.  Upon  him,  and  him 
alone,  had  fallen  the  burden  of  responsibility 
for  the  party's  safety,  and  he  had  watched  every 
movement  of  the  lurking  Indians  with  keen 
apprehension. 

On  the  morning  after  the  Mexican  boy  had 
ridden  forth,  five  Indians  visited  the  slow-moving 
caravan.  "What  their  purpose  was  Kit  did  not 
pause  to  inquire.  He  knew  when  to  be  high- 
handed, and  in  the  present  predicament  this  was 
the  only  card  he  could  play. 

Refusing  to  listen  to  their  errand,  he  ordered 
the  Indians  from  his  presence,  telling  them  that 
troops  had  been  sent  for,  wTho  would  presently 
arrive  and  wreak  vengeance  for  any  harm  the 
caravan  might  suffer.    He  drew  his  pistols  and, 


64   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

repeating  his  order  that  they  depart,  threatened 
to  shoot  dead  the  first  to  turn  about.  They 
stood  not  upon  the  order  of  their  going,  and 
were  wise  enough  not  to  follow  the  disastrous 
example  of  Lot's  wife. 

Three  years  before  Carson  died  there  was  a 
veritable  epidemic  of  Indian  outbreaks  along  the 
Old  Trail.  Marauding  bands  of  Kiowas,  Co- 
manches  and  Cheyennes  lurked  on  the  historic 
highway  and  hid  in  the  mountains  near  its 
western  end.  They  preyed  upon  the  rich  traders 
and  vented  their  smouldering  anger  against  the 
civilization  which  they  saw  encroaching  upon 
their  immemorial  domain. 

At  last  the  depredations  became  so  frequent 
and  numerous  and  the  peril  to  travelers  so 
great  that  the  government  appointed  Kit  Car- 
son to  lead  three  companies  of  soldiers  against 
these  murderous  and  thieving  tribes. 

With  characteristic  energy  and  ingenuity, 
Carson  soon  cleared  the  Trail  of  these  lurking 
savages,  pursuing  them  to  their  mountain  strong- 
holds and  over  trackless  plains  and  administer- 
ing a  salutary  punishment  which  broke  their 
spirit  for  many  months  to  come. 

One  more  episode  of  Carson's  varied  career 
and  then  we  must  leave  him.  He  often  told  of 
it  himself  as  the  one  occasion  on  which  the 
Indians  succeeded  in  fooling  him. 

After  a  long  day  of  hunting  buffalo  he  and 


KIT    CARSON  65 

his  several  companions  had  camped  for  the  night. 
Their  dogs  made  a  good  deal  of  noise,  and  on 
investigating  the  cause  Carson  discovered  two 
large  wolves  lurking  near  the  camp.  We  shall 
let  him  tell  the  rest  in  his  own  words  as  re- 
ported by  a  lifelong  comrade. 

"I  saw  two  big  wolves  sneaking  about,  one 
of  them  quite  close  to  us.  Gordon,  one  of  my 
men,  wanted  to  fire  his  rifle  at  it,  but  I  did  not 
let  him  for  fear  he  would  hit  a  dog.  I  admit 
that  I  had  a  sort  of  an  idea  that  those  wolves 
might  be  Indians,  but  when  I  noticed  one  of 
them  turn  short  around,  and  heard  the  clashing 
of  his  teeth  as  he  rushed  at  one  of  the  dogs,  I 
felt  easy  then.  .  .  .  But  the  red  devil  fooled 
me  after  all,  for  he  had  two  dried  buffalo  bones 
in  his  hands  under  the  wolf  skin,  and  he  rattled 
them  together  every  time  he  turned  to  make  a 
dash  at  the  dogs! 

"Well,  by  and  by  we  all  dozed  off,  and  it 
wasn't  long  before  I  was  suddenly  aroused  by 
a  noise  and  a  big  blaze.  I  rushed  out  the  first 
thing  for  our  mules  and  held  them.  If  the 
savages  had  been  at  all  smart  they  could  have 
killed  us  in  a  trice,  but  they  ran  as  soon  as  they 
fired  at  us." 

It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  though  these 
masquerading  Indians  succeeded  in  fooling  him, 
they  were  not  altogether  triumphant,  for  "when 
they  endeavored  to  ambush  us  the  next  morn- 


66      THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ing,"  he  adds,  "we  got  wind  of  their  little  game 
and  killed  three  of  them,  including  the  chief." 

It  is  with  regret  that  we  part  with  this  fasci- 
nating man.  But  delving  among  his  adventures 
is  like  sounding  the  dead  sea;  one  never  touches 
bottom.  His  life  was  a  collection  of  courageous 
feats,  hair's-breadth  escapes,  and  deeds  of  such 
naive  audacity  that  in  foreign  literature  he  has 
come  perilously  near  to  getting  himself  into  the 
mythical  fraternity  with  such  notables  as  Santa 
Claus,  Jack  Frost,  Father  Time  and  others.  We 
have  seen  a  reference  to  him  in  a  Scotch  book 
as  one  "reputed  to  have  lived  in  America." 

But  Kit  Carson  was  very  real,  as  many  a 
bloodthirsty  savage  and  trail  bandit  in  the  good 
old  days  could  have  testified. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  the  best  thing  that  can  be 
said  of  him — better  even  and  more  memorable 
than  the  tale  of  his  adventures — is  that  though 
he  lived  for  nearly  sixty  years  among  the  most 
desperate  characters  of  frontier  life,  and  amid 
scenes  of  lawlessness,  his  own  character  re- 
mained untarnished. 

What  chances  were  his  for  personal  gain  at 
the  sacrifice  of  honesty  and  honor,  and  what 
temptations  must  have  beset  him  had  his  mind 
been  sordid  and  his  heart  weak.  But  with  his 
grim  courage,  and  amid  the  bloody  work  which 
he  must  needs  do,  there  came  no  taint  of  weak- 
ness or  dishonor. 


KIT    CABSON  67 

He  respected  right  and  justice  where  there 
were  few  laws,  and  those  difficult  of  enforce- 
ment. 

The  very  name  of  Kit  Carson  spelled  safety 
and  protection  to  immigrant  and  trader,  and 
how  must  their  hearts  have  thrilled  with  joy 
and  relief  to  see  his  horse  come  dashing  along 
the  Old  Trail  which  he  knew  and  loved  so  well, 
and  to  realize  that  he  was  indeed  the  kindly 
light  to  lead  them  in  that  desert  wilderness! 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON 

How  lie  hit  the  trail  for  Bent's  Fort  in  the  Rockies;  how- 
he  killed  an  innocent  mule  by  mistake;  how  he  killed 
a  number  of  Indians  on  purpose;  how  he  hunted  and 
trapped  and  traded;  and  how  he  lived  near  his  mountain 
road  high  up  in  the  Raton  Range. 

We  shall  include  in  this  Book  of  Scouts  Old 
Uncle  Dick  Wooton,  the  savory  smack  of  whose 
name  would  seem  to  promise  good  things  in  the 
way  of  adventure.  Moreover,  he  was  a  friend 
of  Kit  Carson's,  and  any  friend  of  Kit  Carson's 
should  be  doubly  welcome  in  this  company. 

Uncle  Dick  was  born  in  Virginia  in  the  early 
80 's,  and  was  still  a  very  young  child  when  his 
parents  settled  in  Kentucky,  where  the  elder 
"Wooton  cultivated  a  tobacco  plantation. 

Young  Dick  did  not  take  to  tobacco,  at  least 
not  in  the  sense  of  raising  it.  But  he  was 
inordinately  fond  of  adventure.  While  he  was 
still  a  boy  he  left  home,  resolved  to  visit  the 
famous  frontier  town  of  Independence  which 
was  at  the  western  extremity  of  Missouri. 

The  journey  across  that  wild,  sparsely  set- 
tled country  must  have  been  difficult  and  peril- 
ous  enough,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  understand 

G8 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  69 

tlie  incentive  to  such  a  journey  unless  we  know 
something  of  that  flourishing  frontier  community, 
of  which  Dick  must  have  heard  much  in  his 
childhood. 

Nor  is  it  easy  to  recognize  in  the  present 
quiet  suburb  of  Kansas  City  the  once  flourishing 
terminus  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail.  But  in 
those  days  Independence  was  a  bee-hive  of  com- 
mercial activity,  and  its  frontier  forges  with 
pack  mules  waiting  to  be  shod,  its  "yoke-shops" 
where  yokes  for  oxen  were  made  and  sold  by 
the  thousand,  and  the  long  trains  of  laden  mules 
and  lumbering  prairie  wagons  arriving  out  of 
the  mysterious  southwest  and  departing  again 
upon  their  long  journeys,  must  have  constituted 
a  romantic  lure  to  the  youth  of  Missouri  and 
Kentucky  to  whom  the  faraway  Mexican  city 
of  Santa  Fe  and  the  long  trail  which  led  to  it 
were  the  subject  of  many  enticing  tales  told  by 
overland  travelers. 

The  history  of  that  time  shows  us  many  a 
youth  fallen  under  the  spell  of  the  old  highway 
and  the  quaint  old  mart  of  commerce  at  its 
western  end.  The  market-place  and  the  corrals 
of  old  Independence  were  a  veritable  Mecca  for 
adventure-loving  youths,  many  of  whom  had 
run  away  from  home  to  see  these  things  and 
were  destined  to  wander  still  farther  before  they 
returned  to  the  parental  fireside. 

Young  Dick  Woo  ton  was  one  of  these,  and  we 


70   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

can  imagine  him  gaping  at  the  doorway  of  Hiram 
Young's  wagon  shop,  feasting  his  eyes  upon  the 
life  which  he  had  come  many  miles  to  see.  Hiram 
Young  was  a  colored  man  who  did  a  thriving 
business  in  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  over- 
land paraphernalia. 

Among  other  things  which  Dick  saw  was  a 
caravan  belonging  to  three  brothers  by  the  name 
of  Bent,  who  were  about  to  start  for  a  "fort," 
or  hunting  and  trapping  station,  which  they  had 
established  in  the  Rockies  near  the  headwaters 
of  the  Upper  Arkansas. 

These  Bent  brothers  fill  a  goodly  space  in 
the  history  of  that  time,  and  indeed  it  would 
be  difficult  to  tell  the  story  of  any  of  the  west- 
ern scouts  without  mentioning  them,  for  almost 
all  of  them,  from  the  famous  Kit  Carson  down, 
were  mixed  up  with  the  Bents  in  some  w^ay  or 
other,  usually  as  hunters. 

A  halo  of  adventure  and  romance  hung  over 
these  worthy  traders;  visions  of  their  remote 
post  in  the  wilderness  arose  in  the  mind  of 
young  Dick  Wooton,  and  he  felt  that  come  what 
might,  he  could  not  allow  their  caravan  to  depart 
without  him. 

If  he  wished  for  a  life  of  adventure  he  was 
certainly  on  the  right  track,  and  he  then  and 
there  began  his  long  career  as  a  western  scout 
and  hunter,  which  continued  until  he  was  al- 
most   ninety    years    of    age.      Old    Uncle    Dick, 


UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON  71 

famous  among  his  comrades  albeit  his  renown 
seems  not  to  have  gone  far  forth  into  the  world, 
died  in  his  remote  home  high  among  the  Rockies. 

By  that  time  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa 
Fe  Railroad,  following  the  line  of  the  Old  Trail 
through  the  mountains  which  he  had  followed 
for  so  many  years  before  the  breath  of  steam 
had  blighted  the  old  romance,  passed  almost  by 
his  door;  and  the  old  scout,  sitting  before  his 
cabin,  could  watch  the  steel  giants  puffing  out 
their  lungs  as  they  drew  their  less  romantic 
caravan  of  prosy  freight  cars  up  the  tortuous 
way.  And  though  his  place  in  history  is  ob- 
scure, he  did  not  die  unheralded  and  unsung; 
for  one  of  those  great  freight  locomotives  was 
named  " Uncle  Dick,"  in  honor  of  him,  and  he 
used  to  watch  for  it  with  the  same  eagerness, 
albeit  with  eyes  weakened  by  age,  as  he  had 
watched  the  bordering  rocks  for  lurking  sav- 
ages in  his  active  days. 

I  am  not  so  sure  but  that  I  should  rather  have 
a  locomotive  named  after  me  than  to  be  given 
a  humble  spot  in  some  history  or  other,  for  a 
locomotive  makes  a  great  deal  of  noise  in  the 
world  and  carries  one's  name  a  long  way. 

Let  us  glance  at  a  few  incidents  in  Uncle 
Dick's  long  and  varied  career. 

It  is  not  hard  to  understand  why  the  brothers 
Bent  agreed  to  take  him  along  when  he  naively 
informed  them  that  he  could  shoot  out  a  squir- 


72   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

rel's  right  eye — or  his  left  one,  for  that  matter, 
they  might  take  their  choice. 

He  went  in  the  capacity  of  teamster,  and  his 
first  essay  with  his  rifle  did  not  contribute  to 
his  glory.  One  night,  as  the  caravan  was  pass- 
ing through  the  region  of  the  Upper  Arkansas, 
it  was  Dick's  turn  to  stand  guard  while  the 
train  was  corralled  for  the  night. 

It  was  customary  to  corral  a  caravan  by  form- 
ing the  mules  in  a  circle,  or  in  two  or  more 
circles  if  there  were  enough  of  them,  with  the 
wagon  and  the  people  inside. 

Dick  was  ordered  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  and 
to  shoot  any  moving  object  which  he  discovered 
outside  the  outer  circle.  You  are  to  suppose 
that  after  his  vaunting  squirrel 's-eye  representa- 
tion he  justly  considered  himself  on  his  mettle, 
and  was  resolved  that  no  "moving  object"  should 
get  away  if  he  knew  it. 

At  last,  after  a  sleepless  and  uneventful  watch 
of  several  hours,  young  Dick  became  aware  of 
a  "moving  object"  and  he  opened  fire  upon  it 
with  commendable  promptitude. 

His  shot  aroused  the  sleeping  travelers,  and 
it  was  presently  discovered  that  Dick  had  killed 
"Old  Jack,"  one  of  the  mules  of  the  caravan! 
He  protested  that  he  was  not  to  blame,  since 
lie  had  followed  instructions  implicitly,  whereas 
the  mule  had  wilfully  disobeyed  the  rules. 

Before  the  end  of  that  long  journey,  however, 


UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON  73 

Dick  retrieved  himself  somewhat  by  helping  to 
save  the  other  mules  from  thieving  Indians. 

Of  all  the  notorious  pilferers  from  time  im- 
memorial, there  have  been  none  to  compare  with 
the  Comanches.  These  noble  warriors,  whose 
prowess  has  been  the  theme  of  song  and  story, 
were  in  plain  fact  a  crew  of  contemptible  thieves 
whose  valiant  deeds  were  nearly  always  inci- 
dental to  their  sordid  thefts. 

"When  the  travelers  had  reached  a  point  along 
the  Trail  called  Pawnee  Forks  they  were  sur- 
prised one  night  by  a  large  band  of  this  tribe, 
who  descended  upon  them  shrieking  like  so  many 
demons  in  the  hope  of  frightening  and  stamped- 
ing the  animals,  which  it  was  their  intention  to 
steal. 

Not  a  single  mule  did  they  get,  but  they  re- 
ceived instead  a  generous  shower  of  lead,  and 
young  Dick  Wooton  did  not  stint  his  contribu- 
tion of  rifle  balls.  He  killed  his  first  Comanche 
that  night. 

In  good  time  the  caravan  arrived  at  its  desti- 
nation and  Dick  remained  at  the  Fort  as  assist- 
ant to  the  proprietors,  who  had  grown  very  fond 
of  him  on  the  long  journey. 

Here  he  met  the  group  of  hunters  and  trap- 
pers who  made  their  headquarters  at  the  Fort, 
and  here  began  his  lifelong  friendship  with  Kit 
Carson,  chief  among  them. 

He  accompanied  the  brothers  on  many  of  their 


74   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

trading  trips  among  the  Indians,  learned  the 
indistinct  trails  which  wound  through  the  moun- 
tains, and  acquitted  himself  well  as  a  tracker 
and  hunter. 

But  the  relations  of  the  Bent  brothers  with 
the  Indians  were  not  confined  wholly  to  trading, 
for  on  the  vast  prairies  and  among  the  fast- 
nesses of  the  adjacent  foothills  there  lurked  al- 
ways the  treacherous  and  bloody  Pawnees,  and 
the  hunter  who  ventured  forth  from  the  Fort 
alone  did  so  at  his  peril. 

On  one  occasion  Dick  Wooton  and  seven  other 
men  were  sent  along  the  Trail  to  meet  and  con- 
voy a  caravan  which  was  expected  to  bring  sup- 
plies for  the  Fort.  They  soon  discovered  that 
a  band  of  Pawnees  was  also  waiting,  lured  to 
the  old  highway  by  visions  of  stolen  mules  and 
other  commodities  from  the  eastern  marts  of 
civilization. 

They  were  doomed  to  disappointment.  The 
scouts  were  well  mounted,  and  though  the  Paw- 
nees greatly  outnumbered  them  and  received 
them  with  volley  after  volley  of  arrows,  they 
were  no  match  for  the  crack  shots  from  Bent's 
Fort,  and  thirteen  of  them  were  killed  in  short 
order. 

It  happened  just  at  that  juncture  that  the 
caravan  appeared  from  beyond  a  small  divide, 
and  the  Pawnees  who  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  escape  the  rifle  shot  of  the  hunters  ran  pell- 


UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON  75 

mell  for  the  wagons,  seeking  the  protection  of 
the  party  they  had  intended  to  waylay !  Strange 
to  say,  they  were  allowed  to  go  free  in  accord- 
ance with  a  custom  which  prevailed  along  the 
Old  Trail  never  to  deal  harshly  with  one  who 
came  seeking  hospitality. 

It  is  conceivable  that  hospitality  may  be  car- 
ried too  far! 

Another  interesting  experience  occurred  while 
Uncle  Dick  was  on  his  way  from  the  Fort  to 
trade  with  the  Ute  Indians.  He  had  with  him 
seven  white  men  and  a  friendly  Shawnee  Indian. 
This  Shawnee  cherished  a  bitter  grudge  against 
the  Utes,  who  had  lately  murdered  one  of  his 
brethren. 

One  might  suppose  that  in  his  revengeful  state 
of  mind  he  was  not  the  ideal  one  to  accompany 
Uncle  Dick's  party,  and  so  it  proved,  for  the 
moment  he  set  eyes  upon  a  Ute  brave  his  anger 
got  the  better  of  him  and  he  killed  the  Ute 
without  regard  to  the  effect  of  his  deed  upon 
the  prospective  customers.  Whatever  may  be 
said  of  his  righteous  anger,  he  was  woefully 
lacking  in  tact  and  not  cut  out  for  a  states- 
man. 

The  nearest  Ute  village  was  not  far  distant, 
and  after  the  Shawnee's  act  it  was  hardly  to 
be  supposed  that  the  villagers  would  be  in  a 
mood  for  trading.  So  Uncle  Dick  abandoned 
all  thought  of  business  negotiations  and  resolved 


76   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

to  withdraw  from  the  Utes'  country  with  the 
least  possible  delay. 

But  the  infuriated  Utes,  having  likewise 
abandoned  all  thought  of  barter,  were  presently 
on  his  trail,  outnumbering  the  whites  twenty 
to  one.  They  pursued  the  party  across  the 
open  prairies  where  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
Dick  to  make  up  for  his  weakness  in  numbers 
by  obtaining  a  vantage  point,  and  the  plight 
of  his  little  company  was  desperate  enough. 

As  it  was  also  out  of  the  question  to  out- 
distance the  pursuers  by  reason  of  the  heavily 
laden  pack-mules,  Dick  soon  resolved  on  the 
only  course  possible,  however  perilous  that 
might  be.  He  made  a  stand,  corralling  the 
animals  in  a  circle,  with  the  tempting  wares 
which  he  had  brought  as  a  sort  of  outer  wall 
to  tantalize,  we  may  suppose,  as  well  as  con- 
found the  pursuing  host. 

The  eight  men,  including  the  wretched  Pawnee, 
took  their  stand  within  the  enclosure  and  bravely 
awaited  the  issue. 

The  Utes  were  soon  upon  them,  circling  about 
the  little  makeshift  stockade  and  keeping  up  a 
lively  fire.  The  white  men  replied  and  their 
trusty  rifles,  albeit  few  in  number,  worked  havoc 
among  the  yelling  savages,  most  of  whose  arrows 
fell  short  or  miscarried. 

Screeching  and  dancing  have  always  been  a 
conspicuous  feature  of  Indian  military  science, 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  77 

and  while  the  Utes  kept  up  their  ear-splitting 
clamor  and  tripped  their  wild  fantastic  without, 
the  little  party  within  was  busy  picking  them 
off  and  killing  their  horses  by  the  dozens. 

At  last  the  Utes  gave  up  in  despair,  and  cast- 
ing many  a  rueful  glance  upon  the  good  things 
which  they  might  have  had  through  the  exercise 
of  a  little  forbearance,  they  left  their  dead  com- 
panions and  horses  and  returned  on  foot  to  their 
village. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  and  creditable  of  all 
Uncle  Dick's  feats  was  the  hewing  out  of  a  road 
through  the  Eaton  Pass  to  enable  caravans  with 
wagons  to  make  the  same  short-cut  through  the 
mountains  as  that  taken  by  the  pack-mule  trains. 

In  this  undertaking  he  proved  himself  indeed 
a  scout,  blazing  the  way  for  civilization  and  com- 
merce. The  State  of  Colorado  gave  him  permis- 
sion to  go  ahead  with  his  plan  and  when  the  road 
was  completed  to  collect  tolls  as  his  own  remu- 
neration and  to  keep  his  mountain  highway  in 
repair. 

Uncle  Dick's  great  dream  came  true.  In  good 
time  the  road  was  completed,  one  of  the  most 
rugged  and  remarkable  roads  in  the  world,  and 
old  Uncle  Dick  (he  was  old  Uncle  Dick  by  that 
time)  built  himself  a  home  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  where  he  hunted  and  trapped  and 
collected  his  tolls  from  the  caravans  and  pack 
trains,  and  lived  out  the  balance  of  his  useful 


78   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

life  high  up  in  his  wild  remote  home,  far  from 
the  haunts  of  men. 

A  romantic  figure  the  old  man  must  have  been 
to  travelers  from  the  East  when  he  stepped  from 
his  rough  cabin  to  chat  with  them  as  they  wound 
their  way  through  his  rocky  domain  en  route 
to  quaint  old  Santa  Fe.  To  him  was  due  the 
credit  for  shortening  their  tedious  and  monoto- 
nous journey  of  many  weeks,  and  it  was  alto- 
gether proper  and  appropriate  that  when  that 
still  greater  time-saver,  the  locomotive,  came  it 
should  bear  the  name  of  Uncle  Dick. 

He  himself  tells  of  his  experiences  as  guardian 
of  that  lofty,  rock-ribbed  road  before  the  railway 
came. 

".  .  .  I  had  five  classes  of  patrons  to  do  busi- 
ness with,"  he  said.  " There  was  the  stage 
company  and  its  employees,  the  freighters,  the 
military  authorities,  who  marched  troops  and 
supplies  over  the  road,  the  Mexicans  and  the 
Indians." 

He  had  an  easy  time  of  it  with  the  first  three 
classes,  he  tells  us,  but  "with  the  Indians  .  .  . 
I  didn't  care  to  have  any  controversy  about  so 
small  a  matter  as  a  few  dollars  toll.  Whenever 
they  came  along,  the  gate  went  up,  and  any  other 
little  thing  I  could  do  to  hurry  them  on  was 
done  promptly  and  cheerfully." 

He  was  a  wise  toll-gate  keeper,  was  old  Uncle 
Dick. 


UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON  79 

"My  Mexican  patrons  were  the  hardest  to  get 
along  with,"  he  goes  on;  and  we  can  readily 
believe  that.  "They  were  pleased  with  my  road 
and  liked  to  travel  over  it,  nntil  they  came  to 
the  toll-gate. 

"They  naturally  differed  with  me  frequently 
about  the  propriety  of  complying  with  my  re- 
quest. .  .  .  Such  differences  had  to  be  adjusted. 
Sometimes  I  did  it  through  diplomacy  and  some- 
times I  did  it  with  a  club." 

We  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  Uncle  Dick's 
own  account  of  a  stage  coach  robbery  on  his 
remote  mountain  which  had  all  of  the  approved 
romantic  quality  of  a  hold-up  by  the  renowned 
Robin  Hood  of  old. 

"One  of  the  most  daring  and  successful  stage 
robberies  that  I  remember  was  perpetrated  by 
two  men  when  the  east-bound  coach  was  coming 
up  on  the  south  side  of  the  Raton  Mountains 
one  day  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon. 

"On  the  morning  of  the  same  day,  a  little 
after  sunrise,  two  rather  genteel-looking  fellows, 
mounted  on  fine  horses,  rode  up  to  my  house 
and  asked  for  breakfast.  ...  I  knew  then,  just 
as  well  as  I  do  now,  they  were  robbers,  but  I 
had  no  warrant  for  their  arrest,  and  I  should 
have  hesitated  about  serving  it  if  I  had  because 
they  looked  like  very  unpleasant  men  to  transact 
that  kind  of  business  with.     Each  of  them  had 


80   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

four  pistols  sticking  in  his  belt  and  a  repeating 
rifle  strapped  on  his  saddle." 

We  can  appreciate  one's  disinclination  to 
serve  a  warrant  on  such  men. 

"They  had  little  to  say  while  eating.  .  .  . 
Wlien  they  had  finished  they  paid  their  bills 
and  rode  leisurely  up  the  mountain. 

"It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  they  would  take 
chances  on  stopping  the  stage  in  daylight  or 
I  should  have  sent  someone  to  meet  the  incom- 
ing coach.  .  .  . 

"It  turned  out,  however,  that  a  daylight  rob- 
bery was  just  what  they  had  in  mind,  and  they 
made  a  success  of  it. 

"About  half-way  down  the  New  Mexico  side  of 
the  mountain,  where  the  canyon  is  very  narrow, 
and  was  then  heavily  wooded  on  their  side,  the 
robbers  stopped  and  waited  for  the  coach.  It 
came  lumbering  along  by  and  by,  neither  the 
drivers  nor  the  passengers  dreaming  of  the 
hold-up. 

"The  first  intimation  they  had  of  such  a  thing 
was  when  they  saw  two  men  step  into  the  road, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  stage,  each  of  them 
holding  two  cocked  revolvers,  one  of  which  was 
brought  to  bear  on  the  passengers  and  the  other 
on  the  driver,  who  were  politely  but  very  posi- 
tively told  that  they  must  throw  up  their  hands 
without  any  unnecessary  delay,  and  the  stage 
came  to   a   standstill. 


UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON  81 

"  There  were  four  passengers  in  the  coach, 
all  men,  bnt  their  hands  went  np  at  the  same 
instant  that  the  driver  dropped  his  reins  and 
struck  an  attitude  that  suited  the  robbers. 

1 'Then,  while  one  of  the  men  stood  guard,  the 
others  stepped  up  to  the  stage  and  ordered  the 
treasure  box  thrown  off.  This  demand  was  com- 
plied with,  and  the  box  was  broken  and  rifled 
of  its  contents,  which  fortunately  were  not  of 
very  great  value. 

"The  passengers  were  compelled  to  hand  out 
their  watches  and  other  jewelry,  as  well  as  what 
money  they  had  in  their  pockets,  and  then  the 
driver  was  directed  to  move  up  the  road.  In 
a  minute  after  this  the  robbers  had  disappeared 
with  their  booty  and  that  was  the  last  seen  of 
them  by  that  particular  coach-load  of  passen- 
gers.' ' 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  these  "genteel- 
looking"  scoundrels  met  an  untimely  death  even 
though  the  law  did  not  overtake  them.  They 
were  later  killed  by  one  of  their  own  confeder- 
ates who  hoped  thus  to  win  a  reward  of  a  thou- 
sand dollars  which  had  been  offered  for  their 
capture. 

It  was  amid  such  scenes  as  this  and  in  con- 
tinual proximity  to  the  most  lawless  and  des- 
perate characters — Indians,  Mexicans  and  train 
robbers— that  old  Uncle  Dick  spent  the  declin- 
ing  years   of  his   adventurous    career,    hunting 


82   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

and  trapping  when  the  spirit  of  the  old  days 
became  too  strong  to  be  resisted  and  watching 
the  sun  go  down  beyond  the  rugged  peaks  of 
his  beloved  Eocky  Mountains. 

"When  he  was  too  old  and  feeble  to  give  an 
account  of  himself  as  he  had  done  so  often  in 
younger  days,  the  old  scout  was  still  protected, 
in  a  measure  at  least,  by  a  sacred  law  of  the 
Arapahoe  Indians — his  friends  and  neighbors  of 
that  lonely  Baton  Kouge. 

One  of  their  chiefs  to  whom  Dick  had  once 
done  a  kindness  had  summoned  his  warriors 
about  his  dying  couch  and  made  them  promise 
that  old  Cut  Hand,  as  they  called  Dick  Wooton, 
should  never  suffer  harm  at  their  hands,  not 
even  if  the  tribe  should  be  at  war  with  the  whole 
world  of  white  men. 

It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  able  to  protect  oneself 
with  a  trusty  rifle  or  a  strong  right  arm.  But 
perhaps  it  is  finer  still  to  earn  protection  through 
friendship  and  kindness,  for  such  protection 
lasts,  as  it  lasted  with  rough  old  Uncle  Dick 
Wrooton,  when  the  arm  is  withered  and  the  old 
rifle  is  rusted  and  rotted  away. 


Century  Co.  Drawn  by  Frederic  Remington. 

TRAPPERS    CROSSING    THE    ROCKIES. 


WILLIAM    F.    CODY 
(buffalo  bill) 

Picturesque  career  of  one  of  the  most  familiar  of  all  scouts, 
and  his  adventures  in  the  West. 

High  up  among  the  Kockies  in  the  city  of 
Denver,  Colorado,  there  died  on  the  tenth  of 
January,  1917,  an  old  man  with  flowing  hair 
as  white  as  snow,  whose  magnificent  frame  and 
iron  nerve  had  enabled  him  to  defy  death  for 
many  weeks.  But  at  last  the  stout  heart  which 
had  never  wavered  or  known  a  pang  of  fear 
ceased  to  beat,  and  one  of  the  greatest  scouts 
the  world  has  ever  known  was  no  more. 

It  was  altogether  a  singular  occurrence.  Not 
that  there  was  anything  extraordinary  in  the  fact 
of  Buffalo  Bill's  dying,  for  he  had  passed  his 
three-score  years  and  ten.  But  his  dying  peace- 
fully in  a  bed — that  was  the  surprising  thing; 
for  by  all  the  rules  of  the  game  he  should  have 
been  killed  a  dozen  times  in  the  open  air — on 
the  prairie,  or  in  the  rocky  fastnesses  which  he 
knew  so  well.  Tomahawks,  arrows  and  bullets 
had  whizzed  about  him  for  half  a  century  or  so. 
Horses   had   been   killed  under   him;   his   great 

83 


84   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

sombrero  had  been  shot  full  of  holes,  and  yet 
not  until  he  was  good  and  ready,  as  one  might 
say,  did  he  lie  down  peacefully  and  die,  just  as 
anyone  else  might  have  done. 

We  may  be  sure  that  he  was  not  afraid  to 
die,  since  he  had  lived  on  familiar  terms  with 
death  for  so  long. 

Napoleon  once  said,  "I  am  the  State !"  mean- 
ing that  he  was  the  whole  of  France — with  per- 
haps something  left  over.  It  would  have  come 
nearer  to  the  truth  if  Buffalo  Bill  had  said,  "I 
am  the  Wild  "West!"  For  while  we  can  think 
of  France  without  Napoleon,  it  is  difficult  to 
think  of  the  "Wild  West"  without  Buffalo  Bill. 

He  was  its  central  figure — its  very  spirit. 
The  West  was  a  vast  stage  on  which  he  enacted 
some  of  the  most  daring  and  extraordinary 
exploits  in  the  whole  history  of  the  world.  He 
was  America's  greatest  and  most  picturesque 
scout;  and  he  was  the  last  of  her  long  line  of 
scouts.  There  may  be  other  Napoleons.  There 
may  be  other  General  Grants.  There  can  never 
be  another  Buffalo  Bill. 

The  adventurous  life  of  William  Frederick 
Cody  began  in  Scott  County,  Iowa,  on  February 
26th,  1845.  Seven  years  later  his  father,  Isaac 
Cody,  moved  his  family  to  Kansas. 

It  does  not  require  a  telescope  to  see  whence 
young  William  came  by  his  bold  and  adventur- 
ous spirit,  for  his  father  was  the  typical  fron- 


WILLIAM  F.   CODY  85 

tiersman,  possessing  unlimited  courage,  a  bound- 
less love  of  adventure,  and  very  little  money. 

Kansas  was  a  very  remote  and  wild  place  in 
those  days,  and  here  William's  father  established 
a  trading-post  on  the  plains.  Scarce  a  week 
passed  but  the  young  boy  saw  caravans  of  Mor- 
mons or  gold-seekers  crossing  the  vast  prairies, 
and  doubtless  from  his  lonesome  home  he 
watched  the  plodding  horses  and  lumbering 
canvas-hooded  wagons  grow  out  of  mere  specks 
on  the  horizon  till  they  brought  up  at  his  father 's 
isolated  abode  for  supplies. 

That  was  when  little  Bill  Cody  first  saw  the 
typical  frontiersman  in  all  his  romantic  glory 
of  leather  stockings  and  sombrero,  long  hair  and 
pistols. 

Young  Bill  made  up  his  mind  that  come  what 
might  his  hair  should  never  be  shorn,  though 
little  did  the  youngster  dream  that  the  day  was 
to  come  when  his  flowing  locks  should  be  famil- 
iar the  world  over. 

There  were  a  good  many  sectional  disputes 
in  Kansas  in  those  days,  and  these  were  usually 
settled,  not  by  the  courts,  but  by  the  quicker 
and  more  decisive  method  of  pistol  shots.  In 
one  of  these  sanguinary,  miniature  wars  the 
elder  Cody  lost  his  life  and  the  young  son  was 
left  the  only  support  of  his  mother. 

Young  William  got  a  job  carrying  stores  across 
the  plains  to  army  posts,  and  it  was  while  so 


86   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

engaged  that  he  had  his  first  experience  in 
Indian  fighting  and  killed  his  first  Indian.  He 
was  but  twelve  years  old  at  the  time.  The 
Mormons  had  taken  possession  of  the  country 
which  is  now  Utah,  and  a  wagon-train  of  pro- 
visions was  being  rushed  to  a  detachment  of 
Uncle  Sam's  troops  who  were  campaigning 
against  these  grim  and  heartless  fanatics. 

The  party  was  attacked  by  a  strong  force  of 
Indians;  the  horses  were  stampeded,  and  the 
plainsmen  forced  to  fight  their  way  along  a  se- 
ries of  high  bluffs  to  Fort  Kearney,  about  forty 
miles  away. 

One  by  one,  the  gallant  men  were  picked  off. 
Young  William,  mere  boy  that  he  was,  stood  the 
strain  of  those  terrible  hours  like  a  hero,  but 
as  night  came  on  he  found  himself  alone  and 
his  strength  was  ebbing  fast.  It  was  a  predica- 
ment to  strike  terror  to  the   stoutest  heart. 

About  midnight  he  saw  the  dim  form  of  an 
Indian  creeping  stealthily  along  the  bluff  above 
him,  and  peering  at  him  cruelly.  Quick  as  a 
flash  young  Cody  fired.  The  night  was  rent  by 
a  savage  yell  as  the  Indian,  with  Cody's  bullet 
in  his  brain,  tumbled  off  the  ledge  and  lay  dead 
almost  at  the  boy's  feet. 

Having  proved  that  mere  Indians  were  no 
obstacles  to  him  in  the  prosecution  of  his  ap- 
pointed errands,  young  William,  as  you  may  well 
suppose,  came  to  be  in  great  demand  upon  the 


WILLIAM   F.   CODY  87 

plains  and  trails  where  lurking  dangers  awaited 
the  timorous  wayfarer. 

He  next  accepted  a  job  as  a  pony  express 
rider  over  the  old  Salt  Lake  Trail,  where  he 
soon  made  a  reputation  for  himself  as  a  guide, 
and  in  dealing  with  road  agents  and  outwitting 
bands  of  hostile  Indians.  The  red  men  came 
to  know  him  and  gave  him  a  wide  berth. 

But  great  things  were  about  to  happen  in  the 
Nation  and  young  Cody  hit  the  devious  and 
bloody  trail  which  was  to  lead  him  through  the 
dreadful  Civil  War. 

When  hostilities  began  between  the  North  and 
South,  William  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the 
Seventh  Kansas  Cavalry.  He  was  one  of  the 
band  which  became  known  to  the  Union  and 
to  the  Confederate  troops  as  the  Jayhawkers. 

As  you  may  suppose,  he  was  an  expert  horse- 
man, and  even  in  those  early  days  of  his  life 
he  presented  an  impressive  figure  as  he  sat  upon 
his  horse  with  that  quiet  mien  which  was  to  be- 
come so  familiar  to  the  world  in  later  years, 
when  the  superbly  proportioned,  keen-eyed,  hand- 
some man,  with  flowing  locks  and  great  sombrero, 
sat  with  quiet  dignity  upon  his  white  horse  and 
responded  modestly  to  the  applause  of  millions. 
You  cannot  even  think  of  Buffalo  Bill  without 
his  horse — any  more  than  you  can  think  of  a 
pirate  without  his  earrings  and  his  red  ban- 
danna. 


88   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

The  war  had  not  lasted  a  year  when  young 
Cody  became  chief  of  scouts  under  General  Cur- 
tis, with  headquarters  in  St.  Louis;  and  it  was 
here  that  there  befell  the  handsome  young  scout 
the  most  important  adventure  of  his  life. 

Eiding  one  morning  through  the  streets  of  the 
city,  he  came  upon  a  party  of  drunken  soldiers 
who  were  annoying  a  group  of  schoolgirls.  One 
of  these,  an  exceedingly  pretty  girl,  was  scream- 
ing and  wringing  her  hands  in  terror.  Scout 
Cody  had  not  the  slightest  fear  of  Indian  war- 
whoops,  but  he  was  such  a  coward  that  he  could 
not  listen  to  the  sound  of  a  girl  crying. 

So  he  rode  up  and  ordered  the  drunken  sol- 
diers to  disperse.  And  right  then  the  drunken 
soldiers  made  the  great  mistake  of  their  lives; 
for  they  hooted  at  the  young  horseman,  ridicul- 
ing him,  and  making  merry  over  his  peremptory 
order,  whereupon  young  Cody,  who  invariably 
followed  words  with  action  (leaving  a  very  small 
space  between),  knocked  three  of  them  senseless, 
one  after  another,  in  rapid  succession.  The  rest 
of  them  were  seized  suddenly  with  the  sober 
second  thought,  and  dispersed  with  lightning 
agility,  leaving  the  young  scout  master  of  the 
situation. 

The  girl  who  had  screamed  did  not  run  away, 
but  stood  gazing  upon  the  young  horseman  with 
undisguised  admiration.  Young  Cody  offered  to 
see  her  safely  to  her  home,  and  although  there 


WILLIAM   F.   CODY  89 

was  no  further  danger  from  drunken  soldiers, 
she  did  not  decline  his  offer. 

She  was  an  extremely  pretty  girl  by  the  name 
of  Louise  Frederica,  the  daughter  of  a  French 
exile  in  America,  and  having  protected  her  as 
far  as  her  home,  the  young  scout  conceived  that 
it  would  be  desirable  to  accompany  her  through 
life. 

Everything  about  William  F.  Cody  was  ro- 
mantic. There  is  not  a  prosy  thing  in  his  his- 
tory- Like  a  gallant  knight  of  yore,  one  of  the 
true  Bound-Table,  King-Arthur  brand,  he  mar- 
ried Miss  Louise  Frederica  and  after  the  war 
he  took  her  out  to  the  Salt  Creek  Valley  in 
Kansas,  where  he  resumed  the  old  frontier  life 
wiiich  he  loved  so  well. 

In  those  days  the  Kansas  Pacific  Bailroad 
was  being  constructed  and  the  managers  of  the 
great  enterprise  were  experiencing  difficulty  in 
feeding  their  great  army  of  laborers  who  were 
laying  the  rails  across  the  vast,  lonely  prairie. 

Having  heard  something  of  the  redoubtable 
plainsman  with  the  long  hair  and  the  keen  eye, 
the  railroad  managers  sent  for  him  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  be  of  service  to  them  in  pro- 
curing and  transporting  food  for  their  multitude 
of  hungry  workers. 

'Will  they  eat  buffalo  meat?"  asked  Cody. 
They  will  eat  anything  they  can  get  enough 
of,"  was  the  answer. 


90   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

"Then  I  will  undertake  to  keep  them  sup- 
plied," said  Cody. 

In  the  following  eighteen  months  he  killed 
4,280  buffaloes,  which  extraordinary  record  won 
him  the  title  by  which  he  came  to  be  known  the 
world  over,  of  "Buffalo  Bill." 

In  the  spring  of  1868,  he  became  again  one 
of  Uncle  Sam's  scouts,  acting  as  guide  for  the 
Fifth  Cavalry  against  the  Sioux  and  Cheyenne s, 
who  w^ere  beginning  to  show  the  sullen  spirit 
which  ere  long  was  to  find  vent  in  savage  war- 
fare. 

Besides  the  assistance  he  was  able  to  render 
in  subduing  the  red  men,  he  found  time  during 
the  years  between  1868  and  1872  to  act  as  guide 
to  many  overland  emigrant  parties,  and  his  rep- 
utation as  a  buffalo  hunter  became  great  in  the 
land.  Instances  of  his  prowess,  strange  tales 
of  his  romantic  and  perilous  adventures,  were 
circulated  through  the  more  populous  East,  and 
people  paused  aghast  and  incredulous  at  the 
extravagant  reports  of  the  buffalo  hunts  in 
which  he  slewT  his  quarry  by  the  thousands. 

Travelers  visiting  the  Far  "West  returned  with 
stories  of  the  tall,  silent,  handsome  horseman 
whose  adventurous  career  was  like  a  tale  of  the 
giants  of  yore. 

Among  the  enthusiastic  easterners  for  whom 
he  had  acted  as  guide  were  Mr.  August  Belmont 
and   some   other  prominent  gentlemen   of  New 


WILLIAM   F.   CODY  91 

York,  who  invited  the  famous  scout  to  visit  the 
metropolis.  In  due  time  he  arrived  there,  clad 
in  buckskins,  a  picturesque  embodiment  of  what 
a  scout  and  frontiersman  was  expected  to  be. 
No  writer  of  dime  novels  could  have  imagined 
a  more  nearly  perfect  figure  of  pathfinder  and 
Indian  fighter  than  Buffalo  Bill  presented  in  the 
crowded  thoroughfares  of  the  great  city.  Peo- 
ple followed  him  in  the  streets,  boys  dogged  his 
footsteps,  as  he  strolled  about  with  that  quiet 
dignity  and  unconcern  which  were  characteristic 
of  him. 

While  upon  this  memorable  visit,  it  chanced 
that  he  was  taken  to  a  theatre  where,  to  his 
great  surprise,  an  actor  in  buckskins  appeared 
on  the  stage  as  the  "famous  Buffalo  Bill."  The 
enthusiastic  reception  accorded  to  this  very  poor 
imitation  of  himself  suggested  to  him  the  idea 
of  a  real  Wild  West  Show  with  the  real  Buffalo 
Bill,  in  all  his  well-earned  glory,  at  its  head. 
It  was  long  before  the  idea  became  a  reality, 
but  when  at  last  it  did  materialize  the  fame  of 
the  great  scout  made  it  a  sensation  and  Buffalo 
Bill's  Wild  West  Show  became  an  institution, 
not  only  in  America,  but  in  Europe  as  well, 
where  boys  who  had  no  knowledge  of  our  vast 
western  prairies,  nor  of  scouts  and  Indians  and 
buffaloes,  were  enabled  to  see  the  overland  stage 
coach  attacked  in  realistic  fashion  by  hooting 
wild  men,  and  buffaloes  lassoed  with  a  skill  and 


92   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

dexterity  which  were  nothing  less  than  marvel- 
ous in  their  thrilling  reality. 

In  1872,  William  Cody,  now  a  colonel,  was 
elected  to  the  Nebraska  Legislature.  Later  on, 
when  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis,  of  Kussia,  came 
to  America,  Cody  was  selected  to  act  as  his 
guide  on  a  hunting  trip.  In  1876,  the  warlike 
Sioux  became  troublesome  and  Buffalo  Bill  went 
back  to  Uncle  Sam's  army  as  chief  of  scouts. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1876,  at  the 
Battle  of  Indian  Creek,  that  Buffalo  Bill  per- 
formed one  of  his  most  famous  exploits.  He 
was  at  the  time  serving  under  General  Crooke, 
who  had  made  ready  to  attack  the  Indians  in 
a  large  open  place.  Suddenly  a  Sioux  chief, 
superbly  mounted,  galloped  fearlessly  into  the 
open,  and  looking  with  sneering  defiance  upon 
the  scout,  challenged  him  to  ride  forth. 

"I  know  you,  Pa-he-haska ! "  *  he  shouted. 
"Come  out  if  you  dare  and  fight  me!" 

The  chief  was  Yellow  Hand,  a  noted  warrior 
whom  Cody  knew  well.  Before  General  Crooke 
could  interfere,  and  to  the  amazement  of  all 
beholders,  the  scout  rode  forward,  bestriding 
his  horse  with  leisurely  mien,  his  keen  eye  fixed 
upon  the  chief,  who  was  taken  aback  at  this 
prompt  acceptance  of  his  challenge. 

Shot  after  shot  Cody  fired  as  he  urged  his 
horse  forward.    The  Indian's  horse  toppled  over 

*Long  Hair. 


WILLIAM  F.   CODY  93 

dead.  Cody's  charger  stumbled  and  fell,  throw- 
ing his  rider.  Then  Yellow  Hand  and  Buffalo 
Bill  rushed  toward  each  other  on  foot,  Yellow 
Hand  with  a  tomahawk,  the  scout  with  his  hunt- 
ing knife ;  and  in  a  desperate  hand-to-hand  grap- 
ple Buffalo  Bill  drove  his  knife  into  the  Indian's 
heart. 

Fifteen  years  later,  during  the  fierce  Sioux 
outbreak  that  centered  about  Pine  Ridge  Agency, 
in  Colorado,  Colonel  Cody  and  his  friend  Major 
Burke  were  of  inestimable  service  to  the  gov- 
ernment. 

Buffalo  Bill  took  part  in  more  Indian  battles 
than  any  other  American  scout  or  soldier.  He 
was,  however,  a  true  friend  of  the  red  men  when 
they  kept  faith  and  avoided  the  warpath.  Every 
Indian  of  the  great  West  knew  him  and  trusted 
him.  They  knew  he  would  make  good  either 
threat  or  promise  and  they  believed  in  him  and 
feared  him. 

In  1890-91  occurred  the  most  frightful  out- 
break of  the  warlike  and  treacherous  Sioux.  It 
began  with  a  " ghost  dance"  instigated  by  the 
wily  old  chief,  Sitting  Bull,  who  knew  that  in 
their  excitement  the  braves  would  presently 
make  of  it  a  war  dance.  This  indeed  came  to 
pass,  and  soon  the  night  was  made  horrible  by 
their  savage  yells. 

In  this  outbreak  Buffalo  Bill  took  the  field 
resplendent  in  the  uniform  of  a  brigadier-gen- 


94   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

eral.  A  friendly  Indian  chief  called  on  him  one 
day  to  pay  his  respects. 

"You  big  general  now,  too,  Bill?"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  said  the  scont,  drawing  his  magnifi- 
cent frame  to  its  full  height.     "I'm  a  general 


now. ' ' 


Big — much  big  general — same  as  Crooke?': 
No,  I'm  a  general  in  the  National  Guard," 
replied  Cody. 

The  chief  looked  at  him  for  a  minute  in  sur- 
prise. "M'lish!  Oh,  hell!  You  much  biggest 
general,"  said  he. 

Indeed,  it  Ts  doubtful  if  Julius  Csesar  himself 
could  have  won  the  reputation  for  military  skill 
which  the  American  Indians  cheerfully  accorded 
to  William  F.  Cody. 

Almost  every  famous  scout  is  chiefly  known 
for  some  conspicuously  heroic  episode  in  his 
career.  But  William  F.  Cody  was  conspicuous 
and  picturesque  because  of  his  whole  career. 
Any  one  decade  of  his  amazing  life  is  about  as 
full  of  adventure  as  another.  To  describe  them 
all  would  be  to  fill  a  volume. 

He  became  not  only  famous,  but  a  national 
character;  and  his  superb  physique  and  mien  of 
simple  dignity,  his  picturesque  presence,  and 
gentle  modesty  in  the  face  of  the  world's  ap- 
plause won  him  the  love  of  the  country  whose 
flag  he  guarded  so  well  and  whose  outposts  he 
helped  to  push  still  farther  westward. 


WILLIAM   F.   CODY  95 

It  was  in  1883  that  he  organized  the  great 
Wild  West  Show  that  became  world-famous. 
There  were  some  who  were  sorry  to  see  the 
romantic  scont  and  pathfinder  become  a  show- 
man, and  this  indeed  might  have  been  the  feel- 
ing throughout  the  country  had  it  not  been  for 
the  fact  that  his  show  became  more  than  a  show 
and  soon  ranked  as  an  institution  of  world-wide 
renown. 

This  was  because  it  was  in  the  truest  sense 
a  reproduction  of  the  exploits  which  he  had 
enacted  and  the  life  which  he  had  lived.  They 
were  not  actor  cowboys  who  followed  the  trail 
of  Buffalo  Bill  in  his  famous  tours,  nor  man- 
ufactured Indians,  nor  broken-spirited  buffaloes 
out  of  zoological  parks  and  prosy  menageries. 
The  figure  which  bestrode  the  white  charger  was 
the  same  Bill  Cody  who  had  killed  Chief  Yellow 
Hand  in  that  personal  encounter. 

But  in  July,  1913,  began  bitter  days  for  the 
old  scout.  The  famous  show  had  long  since  lost 
its  novelty  and  its  popularity  had  begun  to  wane. 
At  last,  after  many  business  troubles  and  re- 
verses, the  celebrated  show,  last  realistic  sou- 
venir of  the  Wild  West  which  is  no  more,  was 
sold  under  the  hammer,  and  the  Indians  were 
sent  back  to  government  reservations. 

There  was,  however,  one  bright  spot  for  the 
old  scout. 

His  famous  white  horse,  Isham,  which  he  had 


96   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ridden  for  twenty-five  years,  was  bought  in  for 
him  by  Colonel  C.  J.  Bills,  of  Nebraska,  an  old 
friend  and  admirer  of  the  great  plainsman. 

"With  this  old  companion,  Isham,  he  retired 
to  a  "Western  ranch  and  there  he  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  remaining  days. 

In  Jnne,  1917,  five  months  after  his  death,  the 
remains  of  Buffalo  Bill  were  removed  to  the 
tomb  which  had  been  prepared  for  them  on 
the  top  of  a  mountain  near  Denver  in  Colorado, 
an  appropriate  spot  for  the  grave  of  the  man 
who  had  served  Uncle  Sam  so  wTell  and  bravely  in 
the  country  overlooked  by  that  remote  sepulchre. 


■•:  z 


BELZY    DODD 

How  he  proved  a  timely  friend  to  a  caravan  on  the  great 
plains;  of  his  pranks,  his  hair  and  his  tin  can,  and  how 
they  proved  a  saving  grace  to  himself  and  others. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  imimpeachable  word 
of  Uncle  Dick  AVooton  and  some  vagrant  rem- 
iniscences of  the  late  Major  Burke,  we  might 
be  inclined  to  regard  Belzy  Dodd  as  a  myth. 

Captain  Crawford",  the  scout  poet,  also  claimed 
to  have  known  him,  though  why  he  did  not  write 
a  poem  about  him  it  is  not  easy  to  understand. 
Such  a  character  as  Belzy  was  quite  as  deserv- 
ing of  the  preservative  of  verse  as  the  Pied 
Piper  of  Hamelin  or  the  celebrated  Old  King 
Cole.  He  was  the  low  comedy  scout  of  the 
Southwest. 

History  contains  no  consecutive  or  full  ac- 
count of  the  exploits  of  Belzy  Dodd;  even  Uncle 
Dick,  who  met  him  at  Bent's  Fort  along  the 
Arkansas,  knew  him  only  by  his  nickname  of 
Belzy,  and  his  biographer  must  needs  be  sat- 
isfied with  little  reminiscent  crumbs  picked  up 
here  and  there. 

With  these  we  shall  endeavor  to  piece  out  a 
fairly  orderly  account  of  his  career.  No  one 
knows  where  or  when  Belzy  was  born,  or  where 

97 


98   THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

and  when  he  died,  but  he  flourished  contempo- 
raneously with  Kit  Carson  and  that  galaxy  of 
scouts  and  trappers  who  foregathered  at  the 
famous  trading-post  of  the  Bents,  called  Bent's 
Fort.  Uncle  Dick,  indeed,  saw  him  perform  the 
exploit  which,  repeated  many  times  and  under 
diverse  circumstances,  won  him  fame  in  the 
Eockies  and  along  the  Old  Trail  to  Santa  Fe. 

Belzy  first  bobs  into  notice  near  Pawnee 
Creek,  along  the  Trail,  where  it  runs  parallel 
with  the  Arkansas  Eiver.  A  caravan  of  trad- 
ers, who  were  on  their  way  to  Santa  Fe,  dis- 
covered him  in  a  canoe,  and  beckoning  to  him 
asked  him  if  there  was  much  danger  to  be  ap- 
prehended from  the  Pawnee  Indians  along  the 
Trail. 

They  discovered  Belzy  to  be  a  man  of  meagre 
physique,  extremely  wiry,  with  darting  black 
eyes,  and  curly  jet-black  hair. 

He  told  the  traders  that  it  was  true  the  Paw- 
nees were  on  the  warpath,  and  recounted  a  recent 
hold-up  with  attendant  scalpings  which  must 
have  struck  terror  even  to  their  stout  hearts. 

He  then  went  on  to  tell  them  that  he  was  a 
scout  of  no  mean  attainments,  possessing  a  talis- 
man against  Pawnees  and  all  other  Indians,  and 
concluding  his  unblushing  self-praises  with  an 
offer  to  be  their  guide  to  Santa  Fe. 

Finding  him  of  a  waggish  turn,  and  judging 
by  his  rifle  and  buckskin  that  he  was  indeed  a 


BELZY  DODD  99 

scout,  the  traders  readily  assented  to  his  join- 
ing their  party,  and  it  soon  became  apparent, 
notwithstanding  his  whimsical  caprices,  that  he 
was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  mountains  and 
the  plains. 

On  their  monotonous  plodding  across  the  prai- 
ries he  contributed  not  a  little  to  their  beguile- 
ment  by  his  eccentric  manner  and  highly  flavored 
yarns. 

The  history  of  the  plains  and  of  the  frontier 
contains  little  of  humor;  the  times  and  circum- 
stances were  too  strenuous  and  grim  for  laugh- 
ter and  merrymaking;  and  though  the  coaching 
stations  and  the  lonely  fort  of  the  Bents  were 
often  the  scenes  of  rough  rejoicings  and  crude 
practical  jests,  we  search  in  vain  for  any  of  the 
more  delicate  incentives  to  mirth  among  those 
rough  plainsmen  and  hardy  mountaineers. 

Belzy  Dodd,  as  good  a  comedian  as  he  was 
a  scout,  must  have  been  a  refreshing  innovation 
to  those  who  met  with  him  in  the  lonely  rocky 
fastnesses  or  the  dry  toilsome  plains. 

Such,  indeed,  his  hosts  of  the  lumbering  car- 
avan found  him,  for  as  they  labored  on  he 
beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  journey  with  a  hun- 
dred wanton  antics  and  conceits. 

Now  he  gave  an  exhibition  of  his  agility  by 
running  alongside  a  buffalo,  clipping  off  some 
of  its  hair  with  his  hunting-knife,  and  presently 
appearing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  beast  with 


100  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

these  clippings  improvised  into  mustache  and 
whiskers,  to  the  delight. of  the  children  of  the 
caravan,  who  found  in  his  whimsical  disguise 
a  source  of  great  hilarity. 

Again  he  would  imitate  the  call  of  the  prairie 
dog,  confounding  that  animal  himself  with  the 
truthfulness  of  his  mimicry;  or,  perchance,  he 
would  render  an  Indian  war  dance,  or,  in  soberer 
mood,  offer  a  demonstration  of  marksmanship 
which  won  the  admiration  of  his  hosts. 

Such  was  Belzy  Dodd,  whose  prowess  was  in 
full  proportion  to  his  drollery  and  whose  rifle 
shot  as  well  as  his  clownish  pranks  invariably 
hit  the  mark. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  caravan  reached  the 
point  in  its  journey  where  Indian  attack  was 
most  likely  to  occur  and,  notwithstanding  the 
reassuring  words  of  Belzy  that  he  would  protect 
them  and  his  vague  references  to  his  mysterious 
talisman,  the  traders  were  not  deterred  from 
making  preparations  against  a  surprise. 

"When  they  asked  Belzy  about  his  talisman 
he  answered  with  a  darkly  significant  wink,  and 
one  could  hardly  blame  the  apprehensive  travel- 
ers if  they  reposed  more  confidence  in  his  rifle 
than  in  any  mystic  charm  which  he  claimed  to 
possess. 

One  night  the  party  corraled  their  mules  in 
the  customary  prairie  fashion,  forming  them  into 
a  ring  with  the  wagons  and  people  inside.    Then, 


BELZY   DODD  101 

leaving  one  of  their  number  to  patrol  the  cir- 
cular encampment,  they  retired  to  rest. 

It  was  just  as  the  first  glimmering  of  the  dawn 
had  begun  to  dispel  the  darkness  in  the  East  that 
the  travelers  were  startled  out  of  their  sleep  by 
the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle.  Bousing  themselves 
hurriedly,  the  men  sallied  forth  to  find  their 
guard  lying  upon  the  ground  groaning  from  the 
effects  of  a  cruel  wound  while  all  about,  in  the 
dim  light,  they  beheld  the  appalling  spectacle  of 
a  score  or  more  of  savage  forms  brandishing 
their  tomahawks  and  making  the  early  morning 
frightful  with  their  mad  cavorting  and  savage 
war-whoops. 

The  traders  lost  no  time  in  opening  fire  from 
behind  their  improvised  fortress  and  the  trusty 
rifle  of  Belzy  Dodd,  who  was  among  the  first 
to  rise,  had  brought  down  two  of  the  assailants 
before  his  companions  fully  realized  what  was 
happening. 

The  shots  now  fell  thick  and  fast;  two  of  the 
traders  were  slightly  wounded  and  one  other 
who  had  ventured  without  to  help  the  stricken 
guard  was  shot  dead. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  the  attacking  band 
had  been  merely  a  small  party  sent  ahead  by  a 
formidable  body  of  Pawnees,  who  now  arrived 
in  full  force,  and  the  predicament  of  the  traders 
became  perilous  in  the  extreme. 

Whether,  in  their  desperate  extremity,  it  oc- 


102  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

cur  red  to  any  of  them  to  demand  of  Belzy  Dodd 
that  he  make  good  his  promise  of  a  saving  talis- 
man, we  are  not  told.  Completely  surrounded 
by  an  overwhelming  force,  they  fought  gallantly, 
reposing  their  faith  in  their  rifles  and  satisfied, 
no  doubt,  to  see  their  guide  and  guest  ply  the 
foe  so  effectively  with  his. 

Suddenly  they  were  aghast  to  behold  Belzy 
drop  his  rifle  and,  pulling  his  hunting-knife  from 
his  belt,  dash  recklessly  forth  through  the  line 
of  mules  and  wagons,  uttering  such  deafening 
and  demoniacal  yells  as  had  never  before  as- 
sailed their  ears. 

Then,  standing  in  the  open  with  the  shrieking 
savages  all  about  him,  and  before  they  had  a 
chance  to  recover  from  their  surprise  at  his  bold- 
ness, he  ran  his  hunting-knife  around  under  the 
edge  of  his  hair,  and  with  a  frantic  shriek  tore 
off  his  jet-black  curly  shock  (which  was  nothing 
more  than  a  wig)  and  waved  it  excitedly  about 
him. 

The  consternation  of  the  Indians  when  they 
beheld  Belzy 's  shiny  pate  and  the  hair  and  hunt- 
ing-knife which  he  flourished,  cannot  be  de- 
scribed. At  the  appalling  spectacle  of  this  self- 
scalped  man  yelling  and  cavorting  before  them, 
they  fled  in  panic  fright,  accompanying  their 
confused  retreat  with  such  clamor  as  never  be- 
fore had  been  heard  upon  the  plains. 

Bolzy  Dodd  was  not  one  to  rest  upon  his  in- 


. 


■HBH  *<> 


BELZY   DODD  103 

itial  laurels,  like  so  many  heroes  but,  encouraged 
by  the  effect  of  his  exploit,  he  pursued  the  terror- 
stricken  Pawnees  with  great  zest  and  relish, 
waving  his  ghastly  souvenir  like  a  flaunting 
emblem  and  shrieking  like  a  very  demon  in  their 
wake.  In  their  precipitous  stampede  one  of  the 
Indians  stumbled  and  fell  and  lay  trembling 
until  a  comrade  raised  him  to  his  feet. 

Neither  history  nor  tradition  tell  us  how  far 
the  disorganized  retreat  of  the  terrified  Pawnees 
continued,  but  judging  from  the  character  of 
its  beginning  we  may  safely  aver,  in  the  familiar 
words  of  the  old  song,  that  "they  never  stopped 
running  until  they  got  home." 

As  for  Belzy,  after  half  an  hour  or  so  had 
elapsed  he  sauntered  unconcernedly  into  camp, 
swinging  his  wig  in  his  hand,  and  with  beads 
of  heroic  perspiration  standing  out  on  his  glossy 
pate — the  honored  testimonials  of  his  triumphant 
rout. 

To  say  that  Belzy  now  became  the  hero  of 
the  caravan  would  be  stating  it  mildly.  To  the 
grateful  traders  his  bald  head,  that  proverbial 
subject  of  unseemly  jest,  was  encircled  with  a 
halo  and  viewed  as  the  very  symbol  of  rescue 
and  deliverance. 

No  golden  amulet  worn  by  doughty  knight 
of  yore  was  ever  contemplated  with  such  feel- 
ings of  reassurance  and  security  as  was  the 
shining  dome  of  Belzy  Dodd,  the  ivory  surface 


104  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

of  which  seemed  to  reflect  a  cheering  guarantee 
of  future  safety. 

He  had,  so  he  explained,  performed  this  trick 
before,  and  always  with  results  most  gratifying, 
although  never  with  quite  such  salutary  and 
striking  success  as  that  which  rewarded  his  ex- 
hibition before  the  murderous  Pawnees. 

Thereafter,  among  the  Indians  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Trail,  Belzyys  fame  was  secure. 
He  became  known  as  the  white  man  who  scalped 
himself.  That  he  could  do  this  again  and  again 
(as  he  subsequently  did)  and  each  time  with 
apparently  a  fresh  crop  of  hair,  served  only  to 
increase  their  dismay  and  terror,  and  the  sav- 
ages, one  and  all,  shunned  him  like  a  thing  of 
the  devil. 

Belzy  accompanied  the  traders  to  Santa  Fe, 
where  he  received  their  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  sprightly  companionship  and  timely 
protection,  and  then  proceeded,  in  accordance 
with  the  frailties  which  are  said  to  accompany 
genius,  to  regale  himself  rather  excessively  with 
the  good  things  which  that  Mexican  metropolis 
had  to  offer.  He  then  disappeared  in  the  Eocky 
Mountains  and  we  find  no  further  trace  of  him 
until  he  reappeared  at  Bent's  Fort  some  two  or 
three  years  later  with  a  sumptuous  collection  of 
pelts  and  an  equally  sumptuous  assortment  of 
adventurous  yarns. 

Perhaps  it  was  on  that  visit  to  the  famous 


BELZY   DODD  105 

hunting  and  trading  post  (in  any  event,  it  was 
during  one  of  his  numerous  visits  there)  that 
Belzy  repeated  his  famous  "act,"  to  the  great 
amusement  of  old  Uncle  Dick  Wooton  and  to 
the  consternation  of  the  Indians  who  were 
present. 

"I  don't  know  what  his  first  name  was," 
Uncle  Dick  is  reported  to  have  said,  "hut  Belzy 
was  what  we  called  him.  His  head  was  as  bald 
as  a  billiard  ball,  and  he  wore  a  wig.  One  day 
while  we  were  at  Bent's  Fort,  while  there  were 
a  great  number  of  Indians  about,  Belzy  con- 
cluded to  have  a  bit  of  fun.  He  walked  around, 
eyeing  the  Indians  fiercely  for  some  time,  then 
finally  dashing  in  among  them,  he  gave  a  series 
of  war-whoops  which  discounted  a  Comanche 
yell,  and  pulling  off  his  wig,  threw  it  down  at 
the  feet  of  the  astonished  and  terror-stricken 
red  men.  The  savages  thought  the  fellow  had 
jerked  off  his  own  scalp,  and  not  one  of  them 
wanted  to  stay  to  see  what  would  happen  next. 
They  left  the  fort,  running  like  so  many  scared 
jackrabbits,  and  after  that  none  of  them  could 
be  induced  to  approach  anywhere  near  Dodd." 

As  for  Belzy 's  adventures  in  the  Rockies,  which 
the  sometimes  dubious  voice  of  tradition  has 
wafted  down  to  us  on  the  original  authority 
of  his  own  reports,  we  can  only  say  that  if  no 
one  can  prove  them  to  be  true,  neither  can  any- 
one prove  them  to  be  untrue,  and  they  are  en- 


106  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

titled  to  sober  record  as  long  as  they  keep  within 
the  bounds  of  reason.  He  was  without  doubt 
a  sprightly  and  ingenious  soul,  infusing  into  his 
scouting  and  hunting  exploits  a  dash  of  inven- 
tiveness and  humor  which  must  have  given 
piquancy  to  his  yarns  and  made  him,  like  the 
village  schoolmaster  of  old,  a  welcome  visitor 
at  every  fireside. 

On  one  occasion  he  had  recourse  to  a  variation 
of  that  mischievous  device  of  naughty  boys,  the 
"tripping  line,"  used,  whilom,  with  such  tragic 
effect  on  the  minister  or  the  sister's  beau,  but 
on  this  occasion  only  a  dismayed  grizzly  bear 
was  the  victim. 

Belzy  was  fleeing  as  precipitately  from  the 
furious  beast,  which  he  had  wounded,  as  the 
awestruck  Pawnees  had  once  fled  before  him, 
having  indeed  no  alternative  but  flight,  since  he 
had  despatched  his  last  shot  at  the  infuriated 
animal. 

He  had  gained  somewhat  on  the  beast  and  was 
in  a  fair  way  to  win  the  opposite  side  of  the 
ravine  by  means  of  a  log  which  bridged  it,  if 
he  could  only  embarrass  the  grizzly's  progress 
and  thereby  gain  more  time. 

How  to  do  this  puzzled  even  Belzy 's  inge- 
nious mind,  but  suddenly  he  bethought  him  of 
that  vicious  trick  which  has  proven  the  chagrin 
of  many  a  worthy  pedestrian  in  the  days  when 
wilful  mischief  was  more  prevalent  than  it  is 


BELZY   DODD  107 

now.  Perhaps  visions  of  his  own  lively  boy- 
hood reminded  Belzy  of  the  classic  cord  with 
its  pendant  tin  can. 

In  any  event,  his  wit,  which  was  quite  as 
nimble  as  his  scampering  legs,  did  not  desert 
him  in  his  predicament. 

Never  slackening  his  frantic  pace,  he  unwound 
a  sufficient  length  of  his  fishing  line  to  reach 
across  the  trail  and  tied  one  end  of  it  to  a  pail 
which  he  had  been  carrying  to  a  spring.  Then, 
pausing  for  a  second  or  two,  he  fastened  the 
other  end  to  a  tree  at  a  suitable  height  to  en- 
counter one  or  other  of  the  shaggy  legs  of  his 
pursuer,  and  laid  his  pail  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  trail  in  such  a  position  as  to  hold  the  line 
taut.  According  to  the  classic  formula  he  should 
have  had  two  cans,  but  all  of  the  refinements  of 
civilization  were  not  to  be  had  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  Belzy  had,  perforce,  to  make 
shift  with  his  single  pail. 

It  was,  however,  a  large  pail  and  capable,  as 
pails  go,  of  a  variety  of  musical  tones,  from  a 
subdued  and  dulcet  chime  to  an  ear- split ting 
din,  and  its  strategic  position  in  that  rocky  pass 
greatly  increased  and  varied  the  powers  of  its 
performance. 

Belzy,  having  scarcely  paused,  was  now  in  full 
swing  again,  " running  on  high"  and  casting  oc- 
casional furtive  looks  behind  him  like  a  speeding 
autoist. 


108  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Presently  the  terrible  collision  occurred.  All 
unsuspecting,  the  grizzly  ran  headlong  against 
the  line,  disdaining  even  to  glance  at  such  a  mere 
thread  in  his  murderous  path. 

But  he  had  reckoned  without  rue.  The  faith- 
ful tin  pail,  jerked  from  its  concealed  seat  by 
the  wayside,  sprang  like  a  tiger  at  bay  straight 
at  the  shaggy  form  which  had  given  it  life. 
Enmeshing  the  legs  of  the  astonished  bear  in  a 
complicated  tangle  of  line,  the  pail,  hauled  and 
thrown  this  way  and  that  in  the  grizzly's  fright 
and  rage,  beat  against  the  rocks,  causing  such 
a  deafening  clang  and  clamor  as  had  never  be- 
fore echoed  in  those  silent  places. 

The  more  the  grizzly  lurched  and  rolled  the 
more  incessant  became  the  din  and  tumult;  the 
more  he  reared  and  snarled  at  the  valiant  pail, 
the  more  hopeless  became  his  entanglement,  and 
the  louder  that  humble  utensil  answered  him 
in  tones  of  ringing  defiance. 

Meanwhile,  Belzy  Dodd,  pausing  not  to  watch 
this  heroic  conflict  save  by  fugitive  glances, 
gained  the  opposite  side  of  the  cleft,  from  which 
safe  vantage  point  he  presently  saw  the  panic- 
stricken  bear  lumbering  along  in  pitiable  fright 
and  perplexity,  with  the  pail  bobbing  and  danc- 
ing in  his  wake. 

There  is  no  way  of  knowing  how  long  this 
musical  appendage  followed  Bruin  in  his  for- 
agings  about  the  Rockies.     It  would  be   strik- 


BELZY   DODD  109 

ingly  romantic  to  conceive  it  as  pursuing  him 
forever  like  a  guilty  conscience,  dinging  its  mo- 
notonous song  in  his  weary  ears  and  rousing 
the  echoes  in  his  cavernous  haunts. 

But  no  doubt  the  distracted  brute  succeeded 
in  extricating  himself  from  his  unwelcome  fol- 
lower, and  we  may  contemplate  the  more  prosaic 
picture  of  the  doughty  pail  reposing,  dented  and 
rusted,  in  some  remote  spot  in  the  great  range, 
even  to  this  very  day. 

As  for  Belzy,  he  escaped  as  he  usually  did 
— minus  his  pail.  No  doubt  such  an  ingenious 
mind  as  his  contrived  to  overcome  this  incon- 
venience when  he  had  time  to  pause  and  think. 

Perhaps  he  was  able  to  use  his  wig  as  a  do- 
mestic utensil  when  visiting  the  spring.  This, 
however,  is  only  a  random  suggestion  and  has 
no  basis  whatever  in  historical  fact. 


GEOEGE    CROGHAN 

How  lie  disobeyed  orders;  how  lie  won  over  his  superiors; 
how  he  used  his  old  sturdy  six-pounder;  together  with 
all  the  other  particulars  of  his  extraordinary  defence 
of  Fort  Stephenson. 

It  would  be  both  pleasant  and  appropriate  to 
follow  the  sprightly  adventures  of  that  unique 
scout,  Belzy  Dodd,  with  those  of  another  scout 
of  similar  mould,  one  Tom  Quick,  who,  in  the 
good  old  days,  was  a  hero  of  no  small  note  in 
Sussex  County,  in  the  northwestern  corner  of 
New  Jersey.  The  old  inhabitants  of  that  pic- 
turesque region  will  to-day  show  you  Tom 
Quick's  cave  in  the  mountain,  where  he  lay 
concealed  while  the  Indians  hunted  for  him  high 
and  low.  The}^  will  tell  you  how  at  last,  when 
the  red  men  had  succeeded  in  hunting  him  down 
and  surprised  him  in  the  act  of  splitting  a  log 
with  his  axe,  he  proved  still  too  wily  for  them 
and  made  good  his  escape  in  the  following  ex- 
traordinary manner. 

Administering  such  a  blow  that  his  axe  sank 
deep  into  the  log,  he  besought  the  guileless  sav- 
ages, on  some  pretext  or  other,  to  insert  their 
hands  into  the  crevice,  and  when  they  had  done 
so  he  removed  the  axe  with  surprising  dexterity 

110 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  111 

and  sauntered  off  while  they  wrenched  and  strug- 
gled to  free  themselves  from  this  very  effective 
trap. 

Indeed,  if  one's  credulity  appears  robust  and 
capable  of  heavy  strain,  the  good  people  of  that 
district  can  give  it  a  severer  test  still  with  other 
instances  of  Tom  Quick's  phenomenal  exploits, 
and  there  is  a  musty  old  book  somewhere  or 
other  which  tells   of  his  deeds   of   derring-do. 

This  ancient  volume,  however,  has  proved  quite 
as  elusive  as  Tom  himself  was,  and  as  the  tra- 
ditions about  him  are  rather  hazy  and  extrava- 
gant, we  shall  dismiss  him  from  our  pages  with 
this  brief  mention,  notwithstanding  that  we  had 
indulged  a  certain  neighborly  pride  in  the  hope 
of  presenting  a  true  New  Jersey  scout. 

We  shall,  then,  turn  our  attention  to  Ohio, 
where  scout  trails  have  been  many  and  where 
the  somber  backwoods  and  lonely  borderland 
were  once  replete  with  adventure;  and  our  story 
will  be  of  Major  George  Croghan,  whom  we  may 
well  call  a  boy  scout,  although  he  lived  long 
before  the  days  of  the  "Be  Prepared"  motto 
and  the  khaki  uniform. 

Those  who  have  read  the  story  of  George 
Rogers  Clark  will  remember  that  the  old  fron- 
tiersman died  at  the  home  of  his  sister,  near 
Louisville,  on  the  Ohio  River. 

This  sister  was  a  Mrs.  Croghan,  and  as  if  it 
were   not   enough   to   have   one   of   the   bravest 


112  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

brothers  that  ever  a  proud  sister  possessed,  she 
must  also  be  the  mother  of  one  of  the  most 
redoubtable  youngsters  that  ever  disobeyed  or- 
ders and  hurled  defiance  at  his  foemen  and 
elders. 

In  the  same  house  in  which  his  old  uncle  died 
in  1818,  George  Croghan  was  born  on  the  15th 
of  November,  1791. 

As  we  know,  George  Eogers  Clark  was  a 
brother  of  William  Clark,  of  Lewis  and  Clark 
fame.  The  elder  Croghan  had  fought  with  dis- 
tinction in  the  War  of  Independence;  so,  what 
with  his  parent  and  his  famous  uncles,  wTe  may 
infer  that  the  boy  who  was  destined  to  win  fame 
while  still  almost  a  stripling  came  naturally  by 
his  adventurous  and  daring  character. 

Nor  was  lie  backward  in  the  gentler  accom- 
plishments, for  he  graduated  from  "William  and 
Mary  College  when  he  was  eighteen,  having 
shown  more  love  and  aptitude  for  learning  than 
any  of  his  trio  of  sturdy  forebears. 

Howbeit,  he  sought  the  woods  and  a  life  of 
adventure,  as  so  many  boys  did  in  those  days, 
and  he  was  still  under  age  when  he  got  himself 
mixed  up  with  old  Tippecanoe  Harrison's  fa- 
mous expedition  against  the  great  Indian,  Te- 
cumseh,  in  1811.  So  favorable  wTas  the  impres- 
sion which  the  young  man  made  on  Harrison 
that  the  old  Indian  fighter  made  him  his  aide- 
de-camp. 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  113 

But  it  was  in  the  War  of  1812  that  young 
Croghan  performed  the  deed  to  which  we  shall 
give  particular  attention  in  this  tale.  Though 
a  military  operation,  the  remoteness  of  the  scene 
and  the  daring  and  romantic  character  of  that 
achievement  bring  the  youthful  hero  within  the 
category  of  scouts,  according  to  the  rather  elas- 
tic meaning  which  we  have  here  given  to  that 
word.  Indeed,  if  we  were  to  confine  ourselves 
to  the  literal  definition  of  the  word  scout  we 
should  have  to  exclude  some  of  our  sturdiest 
heroes  and  limit  ourselves  solely  to  men  who 
have  gone  ahead  of  armies  to  "scout"  or  obtain 
information.  In  this  sense  the  Boy  Scouts  would 
not  be  scouts  at  all.  We  have  inclined,  there- 
fore, to  a  rather  liberal  rule  of  admittance  into 
our  galaxy  and  prefer  to  think  of  a  scout  as 
one  whose  exploits  of  whatever  character,  be 
they  only  adventurous,  have  been  performed  in 
the  lonely  borderland  of  civilization. 

In  the  wild  country  of  northern  Ohio,  along 
the  headwaters  of  the  Sandusky  River  and  not 
far  from  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  there  stood 
in  those  days  an  old  Indian  stockade  built  with 
wooden  piles  a  dozen  or  more  feet  high  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  ditch.  This  ramshackle  structure, 
which  was  dignified  by  the  name  of  Fort  Ste- 
phenson, was  about  as  much  like  a  modern  fort 
as  an  ancient  prairie  stage-coach  is  like  a  modern 
twin- six. 


114  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Fort  Stephenson  stood  on  low  ground  close 
to  the  Sandusky  Kiver,  and  if  it  held  pre-emi- 
nence for  any  conspicuous  quality,  it  was  the 
rather  dubious  one  (for  a  fort)  of  being  an 
exceptionally  good  target,  since  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  high  hills  and  was  quite  defense- 
less against  artillery. 

If  we  ask  why  a  "fort"  was  built  in  such 
a  place,  the  answer  must  be  that  it  was  not 
built  as  a  fort  at  all  and  also  that  artillery  was 
a  rare  luxury  in  the  border  fighting  of  those 
romantic  and  adventurous  days. 

But  Fort  Stephenson,  such  as  it  was,  was  the 
repository  of  valuable  stores,  and  General  Har- 
rison, who  was  at  Seneca  Falls,  some  miles  dis- 
tant, had  sent  young  Croghan  to  garrison  the 
old  stockade.  With  him  were  one  hundred  and 
sixty  men,  all  youngsters  like  himself,  full  of 
fight  and  patriotism,  and  ready  to  follow  their 
youthful  commander  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

In  July,  1813,  the  British  General  Proctor, 
with  about  three  thousand  Indians,  including 
the  famous  chief  Tecumseh  and  some  five  hun- 
dred British  troops,  advanced  against  the  old 
stockade  with  a  covetous  eye  upon  the  valuable 
stores  which  he  knew  the  old  chicken-coop  of 
a  fort  contained. 

Of  course,  General  Harrison  knew  what  Proc- 
tor was  up  to,  which  was  just  to  surprise  and 
capture  the  place,  then  fall  on  his  own  force  at 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  115 

Seneca  Falls,  and  presto,  have  the  whole  vast 
country  of  Ohio  in  the  palm  of  his  grasping 
hand. 

While  there  was  yet  time  General  Harrison 
went  np  to  take  a  look  at  Fort  Stephenson  and 
see  what  kind  of  a  defence  it  could  put  up  against 
the  attack  which  was  imminent. 

He  very  promptly  decided  that  it  could  not 
put  up  any  defence  at  all,  and  he  therefore 
directed  young  Croghan  to  evacuate  it  as  soon 
as  it  became  certain  that  General  Proctor  was 
on  his  way  to  attack  it. 

Croghan  was  fond  of  his  old  ramshackle  fort 
in  the  wilderness  and  he  maintained  a  discreet 
silence  when  his  superior  issued  this  wise  order. 

Shortly,  the  scouts  whom  General  Harrison 
had  sent  out  returned  to  Seneca  Falls  to  inform 
him  that  Proctor,  with  his  regulars  and  Indians, 
was  on  the  march,  and  he  immediately  des- 
patched two  messengers  directing  Croghan  to 
lose  no  time  in  destroying  the  stockade  and 
repairing  at  once  to  Seneca  Falls. 

The  adventures  of  these  messengers  would 
make  a  pretty  good  scout  story  in  themselves. 
They  were  lost  in  the  woods;  they  were  pur- 
sued by  savages,  and  after  a  hair's-breadth 
escape  they  made  their  belated  way  to  Fort 
Stephenson  and  delivered  General  Harrison's 
mandate  to  young  Croghan. 

The  first  thing  that  Croghan  did  after  read- 


116  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ing  the  message  was  to  call  his  youthful  com- 
panions about  him  and  ask  them  if  they  were 
ready  to  stand  by  him  in  defending  the  fort. 
They  answered  with  alacrity  that  they  were, 
whereupon  our  young  hero,  who  was  stronger 
on  courage  than  on  discipline,  sent  the  follow- 
ing note  to  General  Harrison: 

"Sib: 

I  have  just  received  yours  of  yesterday,  ten 
o'clock  P.M.,  ordering  me  to  destroy  this  place 
and  make  good  my  retreat,  which  was  received 
too  late  to  be  carried  into  execution.  We  have 
determined  to  maintain  this  place,  and  by 
Heavens,  we  can! 


?> 


This  was  pretty  good  from  a  young  man  scarce 
of  age  to  old  Tippecanoe,  and  it  would  be  in- 
teresting to  know  how  the  General  felt  when 
he  read  it.  In  any  event,  we  know  what  he  did. 
He  sent  an  officer  to  supersede  young  George 
and  a  small  band  of  cavalry  to  accompany  him 
and  to  escort  the  insubordinate  youth  into  his 
stern  presence. 

The  progress  of  this  band  of  cavalry  to  Fort 
Stephenson  would  also  make  a  pretty  good  scout 
story.  It  was  not  exactly  a  May  walk.  They 
fought  their  way  inch  by  inch  through  hostile 
Indians,  killing  a  dozen  of  them  on  their  ardu- 
ous journey  up  the  river,  and  at  last,  after 
numerous  setbacks  and  a  variety  of  adventures, 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  117 

tliey  succeeded  in  reaching  the  fort,  where  they 
delivered  Tippecanoe's  mandate  to  his  doughty 
insubordinate. 

There  was  nothing,  of  course,  for  Croghan  to 
do  but  to  obey,  and  he  repaired,  crestfallen,  to 
headquarters.  We  are  to  suppose  that  he  was 
quite  as  brave  of  tongue  as  of  arm,  and  of  a 
clever  tact  to  boot,  for  he  straightway  explained 
to  General  Harrison  that  the  defiant  wording 
of  his  missive  had  been  intended  not  for  that 
stern  old  veteran's  official  eye,  oh,  dear,  no,  but 
for  the  perusal  of  the  enemy,  and  had  been  in- 
tended to  strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  foe. 

"We  may  believe  that  General  Harrison  winked 
the  other  eye  on  hearing  this,  but  it  is  not  im- 
probable that  he  was  impressed  with  young 
Croghan 's  reminder  that  delivery  of  the  mes- 
sage had  been  delayed  and  that  the  intervening 
country  in  the  meantime  had  become  so  infested 
with  hostile  savages  that  a  retreat  through  it 
would  have  been  most  unwise  and  hazardous. 
He  begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  hold  his 
precious  fort,  and  so  fond  was  General  Harrison 
of  the  enthusiastic  young  fellow  that  he  forgave 
his  unruly  conduct  and  consented  to  his  going 
back  to  his  ramshackle  old  stockade  to  hurl  de- 
fiance at  the  British  and  Indian  forces. 

No  schoolboy  at  the  joyous  threshold  of  va- 
cation time  ever  repaired  more  gaily  to  his 
sports   than  did  young   Croghan  to  his   lonely, 


118  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

dilapidated  fortress,  where  his  companions,  on 
hearing  of  his  conquest  of  old  Tippecanoe, 
greeted  him  with  cheers  and  congratulations. 

He  now  proceeded  to  make  ready  for  the  de- 
fence of  his  beloved  stronghold.  There  was  no 
more  time  than  was  necessary,  for  scarcely  were 
the  few  preparations  under  way  when  the  cop- 
per-colored visage  of  an  Indian  was  discovered 
peering  over  the  wooden  piles  which  formed  the 
enclosure. 

The  information  which  this  savage  scout  se- 
cured was  not  destined  to  be  carried  far,  for 
the  trusty  rifle  of  one  of  Croghan's  companions 
from  Kentucky  toppled  him  over,  as  rifles  from 
Kentucky  were  pretty  certain  to  do,  and  "the 
subsequent  proceedings  interested  him  no  more." 

Other  venturesome  Indians  met  with  the  same 
fate,  and  it  was  soon  decided  that  this  kind  of 
spying  was  not  a  safe  game. 

A  number  of  red  men  then  assembled  at  the 
edge  of  the  clearing  in  which  the  fort  stood, 
but  these  were  presently  dispersed  by  "Mistress 
Bess,"  a  lonely  cannon  which  was  the  pride  and 
delight  of  the  youthful  commander  and  his  com- 
rades. 

Very  soon  things  began  to  happen  in  earnest. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  the  barges  of  the  British 
appeared  around  a  bend  in  the  river  and  as  soon 
as  the  troops  had  disembarked  they  opened  fire 
on  the  fort  with  a  six-inch  howitzer. 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  119 

"Mistress  Bess,"  however,  was  not  to  be 
tempted  into  an  untimely  response.  Instead, 
young  Croghan  and  his  redoubtables  hauled  her 
from  one  port-hole  to  another,  poking  her  nose 
through  each  in  order  to  create  the  impression 
that  there  was  a  gun  in  every  port-hole!  Oc- 
casionally they  let  her  rip  in  order  to  give  ar- 
tistic finish  to  the  ruse. 

The  enemy,  British  and  Indians,  gathered 
about  the  old  stockade,  numbered  considerably 
more  than  a  thousand — ten  times  the  number 
of  men  under  Croghan.  They  were  amply 
equipped  with  artillery  against  the  one  poor, 
wandering  gun  of  the  defenders.  We  know  of 
no  instance  in  frontier  history  wThere  an  at- 
tempt has  been  made  to  defend  a  fort  or  a 
position  with  such  a  preposterous  disparity  in 
numbers  and  equipment,  unless  it  was  the  tragic 
defence  of  the  Alamo  by  the  intrepid  Davy 
Crockett. 

To  the  besiegers  there  was,  of  course,  not  the 
slightest  doubt  as  to  the  issue.  General  Proc- 
tor expected  to  take  the  fort  much  as  he  would 
have  picked  a  raspberry.  He,  therefore,  sent 
three  of  his  officers,  Colonel  Elliot,  Major  Cham- 
bers and  Captain  Dixon,  with  a  white  flag,  to 
demand  that  the  fort  be  immediately  surren- 
dered. 

A  parley  ensued  near  the  stockade  between 
these  worthies  and  young  Edmund  Shipp,  aged 


120  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

nineteen,  who  had  been  sent  out  by  Croghan. 
Young  George  himself  watched  this  interesting 
meeting  from  the  rampart  and  interrupted  the 
conversation  by  one  pithy  observation,  as  we 
shall  see. 

The  parley,  as  reported,  was  as  follows: 

Colonel  Elliot:  I  demand  the  instant  surrender 
of  the  fort,  to  spare  the  effusion  of  blood,  which 
we  cannot  do,  should  Ave  be  under  the  necessity 
of  reducing  it  by  our  powerful  force  of  regulars, 
Indians  and  artillery. 

Ensign  SMpp:  My  commandant  and  the  gar- 
rison are  determined  to  defend  the  post  to  the 
last  extremity  and  bury  themselves  in  its  ruins 
rather  than  surrender  it  to  any  force  whatever. 

Captain  Dixon:  Look  at  our  immense  body  of 
Indians. 

Ensign  SMpp:  I  see  them. 

Captain  Dixon:  They  cannot  be  restrained 
from  massacring  the  whole  garrison  in  the  event 
of  our  undoubted  success. 

Major  Cliamhers:  Our  success  is  certain. 

Ensign  Shipp:  Is  it? 

Colonel  Elliot:  You  appear  to  be  a  fine  young 
man.    I  pity  your  situation. 

Ensign  Shipp:  Do  you? 

Colonel  Elliot:  For  God's  sake,  urge  the  sur- 
render of  the  fort  and  prevent  the  slaughter 
which  must  follow  resistance  should  you  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  savages. 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  121 

Captain  Dixon:  It  is  a  pity  so  fine  a  young 
man  as  your  commander  is  said  to  be  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  savages.  Young 
man,  for  God's  sake  surrender  and  prevent  the 
dreadful  massacre  that  will  be  caused  by  your 
resistance. 

Ensign  Shipp:  When  the  fort  is  taken  there 
will  be  none  to  massacre. 

Captain  Dixon:  Think  well,  young  man. 

George  Croghan  (from  the  rampart) :  Come 
inside,  Shipp,  and  we'll  blow  'em  all  to  Hell! 

As  Ensign  Shipp  turned,  an  Indian  sprang 
from  the  bushes  and  seized  him,  but  Captain 
Dixon  instantly  stepped  forward  and  released 
him  from  the  savage's  hold.  The  Captain  then 
explained  again  how  impossible  it  was  to  con- 
trol the  Indians  and  repeated  his  warning  of 
a  massacre. 

Croghan,  standing  upon  the  rampart,  disdain- 
fully regarded  this  whole  incident  as  a  put-up 
job  designed  to  intimidate  his  ensign.  If  such 
it  was,  it  did  not  succeed,  and  thus  ended  the 
interesting  but  fruitless  parley. 

The  besiegers  now  began  a  lively  bombard- 
ment with  five  six-pounders  which  they  had  con- 
cealed among  the  bushes  on  the  neighboring  hill. 
That  night  the  boys  in  the  fort  hauled  their  old 
cannon  to  the  block-house  in  the  northwest  cor- 
ner, where,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  they  suc- 
ceeded in  hoisting  it  upon  the  wall  in  such  a 


122  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

position  that  it  commanded  the  stretch  of  ditch 
where  they  had  reason  to  believe  the  enemy 
would  concentrate  their  attack  in  the  morning. 
The  muzzle  of  "Mistress  Bess"  was  effectually 
concealed  so  as  to  afford  the  besiegers  no  ink- 
ling of  her  position.  In  the  morning  they  gave 
her  a  furlough  while  they  busied  themselves 
with  the  agreeable  occupation  of  picking  off 
Indians  who  appeared  from  under  cover. 

Meanwhile,  others  were  hurrying  to  and  from 
the  storehouse  carrying  bags  of  sand  to  strength- 
en the  northwest  corner,  against  which  the  enemy 
had  already  opened  their  batteries  and  were 
keeping  up  a  relentless  fire. 

A  little  before  sunset  a  storming  party  was 
discovered  advancing  through  the  woods.  Even 
as  they  approached,  the  clouds  which  had  been 
gathering  ominously  for  an  hour  or  more,  mur- 
muring their  portentous  threats  in  continuous 
low  rumblings,  burst  in  a  torrent  and  the  fading 
daylight  was  illuminated  with  dazzling  streaks 
of  lightning,  while  the  earth,  seemed  to  tremble 
with  the  mounting  voice  of  the  thunder  as  the 
furious  storm  increased,  uprooting  trees  and 
working  havoc  in  the  whole  wild  place. 

On  through  rain  and  wind  and  gathering  dark- 
ness came  the  storming  party,  their  advance  con- 
cealed by  the  thick  and  pungent  smoke  of  smudge 
fires,   augmented  by  the   heavy  downpour   and 


GEORGE    CEOGHAN  123 

borne  toward  the  old  stockade  by  the  furious 
wind. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  that  Nature  had  come  like 
an  ally  with  strong  reinforcements  to  help  over- 
whelm that  little  band  of  youngsters  who  were 
maintaining  their  hopeless  cause  so  gallantly. 

Meanwhile  the  one  lonely  old  cannon,  hidden 
on  the  block-house,  held  its  peace  amid  the  din 
and  tumult. 

Suddenly  those  in  the  fort  could  discern 
streaks  of  red  close  by  amid  the  smoke — the 
uniforms  of  George  the  Third,  and  here  and 
there  a  savage  form  peering  out  of  the  dark- 
ness. 

The  stormers  were  now  greeted  with  a  well- 
aimed  rifle  volley  from  the  port-holes,  which 
threw  them  into  momentary  confusion,  but  did 
not  break  their  advance. 

On  they  came  with  fixed  bayonets — silently, 
irresistibly.  They  were  close  to  the  ditch  now 
and  could  be  seen  plainly  from  within  the  fort. 

"Come  on,  men!"  shouted  Colonel  Short. 
"We'll  give  the  damned  Yankees  no  quarter!" 

With  this  they  jumped  into  the  ditch,  intend- 
ing to  climb  the  opposite  side  of  it,  scale  the 
rickety  palisade  and  enter  the  fort  triumphant. 

But  just  then  something  happened.  Into  the 
supposedly  safe  shelter  of  the  ditch  (which  the 
stormers  knew  was  too  near  the  walls  for  suc- 
cessful rifle  shot  from  the  ports)  there  presently 


124  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

descended  such  a  furious  storm  of  slugs  and 
shot  as  never  before  rained  out  of  the  iron  mouth 
of  George  Croghan's  single  cannon. 

There  she  sat,  with  a  clear  and  unobstructed 
range,  upon  the  block-house,  fully  revealed  now 
and  with  her  grim  muzzle  pointing  straight  down 
into  the  ditch.  The  storming  host  was  caught 
like  rats  in  a  trap.  If  Satan  himself  had  stepped 
blithely  out  upon  the  block-house  amid  the  wind 
and  storm  his  appearance  could  hardly  have 
caused  greater  consternation. 

In  that  terrific  greeting  to  the  storming  party, 
which  spread  panic  and  dismay  among  them, 
more  than  fifty  lost  their  lives  and  a  number 
were  wounded. 

Colonel  Short,  wTho  had  threatened  to  "give 
the  Yankees  no  quarter,"  received  a  mortal 
wound,  and  as  he  fell  back  he  raised  a  white 
rag  upon  his  bayonet. 

Meanwhile  the  men  who,  fortunately  for  them, 
had  not  yet  entered  the  ditch  were  treated  to 
an  incessant  and  effective  rifle-fire  from  the 
ports.  When  they  reached  that  fatal  ditch  which 
they  had  hoped  might  be  the  portal  of  their 
triumphal  entry,  they  turned  and  fled  while  the 
frowning  muzzle  of  the  old  six-pounder  omi- 
nously rose  and  pointed  in  their  direction.  Their 
path  of  retreat  was  marked  with  scores  who  fell. 
Those  who  gained  the  shelter  of  the  woods  dis- 
creetly remained  there,  where  their  astonished 


GEORGE    CROGHAN  125 

leaders  succeeded  in  bringing  order  out  of  chaos ; 
but  the  attack  was  not  renewed. 

For  those  who  remained  in  the  ditch  Major 
Croghan  did  all  that  he  safely  could  do  to  miti- 
gate their  sufferings  throughout  that  long  dread- 
ful night.  Buckets  of  water  were  lowered  to 
them  and  as  soon  as  it  could  be  done  a  way  was 
made  to  bring  them  into  the  fort,  where  they 
were  kindly  and  humanely  treated. 

About  thirty  per  cent,  of  Proctor's  men  had 
lost  their  lives  in  this  most  disastrous  enterprise 
which  had  begun  with  so  much  bluster  and  as- 
surance. 

Major  Croghan  lost  just  exactly  one  man  (if 
you  can  call  him  a  man  who  was  but  eighteen) 
in  the  whole  encounter.  Besides  this  there  were 
a  few  scratches,  cuts  and  things — but  nothing 
to  worry  about. 

The  next  day  the  attacking  legion  made  good 
its  retreat  through  the  woods,  leaving  a  large 
stack  of  munitions  and  provisions  of  which  the 
valorous  young  men  of  the  garrison  made  good 
use. 

Perhaps  the  most  surprised  person  of  all  after 
this  extraordinary  defence  (which  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  exaggerate)  was  old  Tippecanoe 
Harrison,  wTho  could  find  no  words  to  express 
his  commendation  of  the  young  man  who  had 
performed  this  incredible  exploit.  "It  will  not 
be  the  least  of  General  Proctor's  mortification," 


126  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

he  said,  "to  find  that  he  has  been  baffled  by  a 
youth  who  has  just  passed  his  twenty-first  year." 

Indeed,  we  may  add  that  if  this  did  not  oc- 
casion the  General  sufficient  chagrin  he  may 
have  still  suffered  a  passing  blush  of  humilia- 
tion to  reflect  that  all  of  George  Croghan's  of- 
ficers and  most  of  his  men  were  younger  than 
himself. 

A  troop  of  Boy  Scouts  indeed,  and  worthy 
of  the  full  salute  which,  as  every  good  scout 
knows,  means  the  three  first  fingers  of  the  left 
hand  raised  to  the  level  of  the  forehead. 

So  let  us  give  the  full  scout  salute  to  the 
memory  of  young  George  Croghan  and  his  band 
of  youthful  patriots. 

Salute ! 


DANIEL    BOONE 

How  lie  crossed  the  Alleghenics  and  explored  Kentucky;  how 
he  lived  alone  in  the  wilderness;  how  he  helped  found 
and  defend  the  town  of  Boonsborough ;  together  with 
an  account  of  his  adventures  with  the  Indians  and  his 
strange  captivity  among  them,  and  other  matters  in  the 
life  of  the  great  scout. 

The  pen  falters  at  the  task  of  writing  of  Dan- 
iel Boone,  the  most  romantic  and  best  known  of 
all  backwoodsmen  and  one  of  the  greatest  of  all 
sconts. 

Irresistibly  there  rises  in  the  mind's  eye  a 
picture  of  the  lone  woodsman  in  his  coonskin 
cap,  standing,  rifle  in  hand,  in  the  trackless 
Kentucky  wilderness.  One  is  almost  appalled 
at  the  romance  of  his  career. 

His  fame  is  great  in  American  history,  and 
justly  so,  for  it  rests  not  upon  an  isolated  act 
of  heroism,  but  upon  a  whole  long  life  of  in- 
domitable prowess  and  unceasing  deeds  of  cour- 
age.   It  is  difficult  to  write  briefly  of  his  career. 

Daniel  Boone  was  not  born  in  the  locality  with 
which  his  name  is  identified,  but  on  a  farm  in 
Pennsylvania  near  where  the  city  of  Reading 
now  stands.  His  parents  were  Quakers  and  he 
was  the  fourth  son  and  sixth  child  in  a  family 

127 


128  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

of  eleven  children.  He  was  born  on  the  second 
of  November,  in  1734. 

"While  still  a  boy,  it  was  his  delight  to  wander 
away  into  the  forest,  far  from  the  haunts  of 
men,  and  before  he  had  passed  his  teens  he  had 
become  an  expert  woodsman  and  hunter.  The 
love  of  nature  and  solitude  were  born  in  him 
and  throughout  his  life  he  instinctively  moved 
away  from  civilization. 

At  eighteen  he  moved  with  his  parents  to  the 
Yadkin  Valley  in  the  northwestern  part  of  North 
Carolina.  Why  they  went  to  North  Carolina  is 
not  known,  and  although  their  new  place  of  hab- 
itation seemed  remote  and  wild  enough  to  satisfy 
the  most  adventurous  spirit,  it  did  not  long  sat- 
isfy the  migratory  longing  of  young  Daniel. 

His  first  venture,  however,  was  not  of  an  ex- 
ploratory sort,  but  rather  matrimonial,  for  he 
wooed  and  won  Eebecca  Bryan,  whose  parents, 
like  the  Boones,  had  migrated  from  Pennsyl- 
vania. 

Miss  Eebecca  was  but  seventeen  at  the  time, 
and  very  fair  to  look  upon,  so  we  are  told.  She 
was  a  true  daughter  of  the  wilderness,  and 
proved  an  ideal  helpmate  and  companion  for 
her  restless  husband,  following  him  in  all  his 
wanderings.  A  large  family  of  children  were 
born  to  this  pioneer  pair. 

Let  us  pause  for  a  brief  glimpse  of  the  fa- 
mous woodsman  as  he  looked  in  his  twenty-first 


* 


DANIEL     BOONE 


DANIEL   BOONE  129 

year,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  as  given  by 
a  border  historian: 

"Behold  that  young  man  exhibiting  such  un- 
usual firmness  and  energy  of  character,  five  feet 
eight  inches  in  height,  with  broad  chest  and 
shoulders,  his  form  gradually  tapering  down- 
ward to  his  extremities;  his  hair  moderately 
black;  blue  eyes  arched  with  yellowish  eyebrows; 
his  lips  thin  with  a  mouth  peculiarly  wide;  a 
countenance  fair  and  ruddy,  with  a  nose  a  little 
bordering  on  the  Roman  order.  Such  was  Dan- 
iel Boone,  now  past  twenty-one,  presenting  al- 
together a  noble,  manly,  prepossessing  appear- 
ance. .  .  ." 

Indeed,  he  must  have  presented  an  attractive 
picture  in  his  fringed  suit  of  buckskin  and  the 
famous  coonskin  cap  which  the  world  forever 
associates  wTith  him. 

For  a  while  life  in  the  Yadkin  Valley  was  a  life 
after  Boone 's  own  heart;  a  life  of  hunting  and 
trapping  and  fishing,  and  occasional  troubles  with 
Indians,  but  in  the  main  peaceful.  In  his  quest 
for  game  he  wTas  wont  to  wander  far  from  home 
and  in  those  lonely  rambles  he  would  often  pen- 
etrate the  forest  on  the  lower  readies  of  the 
great  mountains  which  rose  to  the  westward, 
now  known  as  the  Cumberlands. 

We  may  wTell  suppose  that  now  and  again  lie 


130  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

wondered  what  lay  beyond  those  rugged  heights 
and  the  temptation  must  have  been  strong  upon 
him  at  times  to  continue  his  quest  up  their 
wooded  sides. 

The  cabins  about  his  own  increased  in  num- 
ber, the  few  straggling  frontier  households  be- 
came a  settlement,  and  Boone  became  restive 
under  these  signs  of  advancing  civilization.  You 
are  not  to  suppose  that  the  remote  Y'adkin  Val- 
ley became  at  any  time  a  populous  place,  but 
a  locality  did  not  have  to  be  populous  for  this 
redoubtable  nomad  to  shun  it.  A  dozen  cabins 
or  so  were  quite  enough  to  drive  him  forth  to 
pastures  new.  He  was  a  pioneer  rather  than 
a  settler  and  ever  ready  to  lay  aside  his  plow 
for  his  trusty  rifle.  The  wilderness  was  always 
calling  him  and  luring  him,  and  he  found  it  a 
dearer  friend  even  than  humankind. 

There  returned  one  day  to  the  little  settle- 
ment a  certain  John  Finlay,  who  had  crossed 
the  mountain  barrier  and  explored  a  small  sec- 
tion of  what  is  now  Kentucky.  His  accounts 
of  the  mysterious  land  which  lay  beyond  the 
hills  (notwithstanding  that  he  had  explored  but 
a  very  small  corner  of  it)  filled  the  young  men 
of  the  settlement  with  enthusiasm  and  he  found 
a  read}'  listener  in  young  Daniel  Boone.  This 
was  in  1767,  or  thereabouts. 

It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  Boone  had  not 
already  crossed  the  mountain  himself,  for  on  an 


DANIEL   BOONE  131 

old  tree  in  Washington  County,  Tennessee,  is 
an  inscription  which  reads: 

D.  Boone  tilled  a  bar  on  tree  in  the  year  1760. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  Boone  "cilled  a  bar" 

west  of  the  Cumberlands  some  seven  years  be- 
fore the  return  of  Finlay,  although  there  is  no 
other  than  this  rough  record  to  testify  to  such 
a  trip.  In  any  event,  Finlay  Js  alluring  tale  of 
the  wonderful  forests  teeming  with  game  and 
rich  in  every  variety  of  natural  beauty  found 
young  Boone  in  a  susceptible  mood  and  he 
headed  a  party  of  six  adventurous  young  men 
who  resolved  to  explore  that  vast  tract  of  "no 
man's  land"  which  is  now  the  Blue  Grass  State 
of  Kentucky. 

Crossing  the  Alleghenies  in  June,  1767,  they 
gazed   in  wonder   and   delight   at   the   prosp- 
which  lay  spread  before  them,  for  indeed  there 
is  scarcely  a  more  beautiful  view  in  all  our  land 
than  the  panorama  which  lay  below  them. 

Descending  the  trackless  face  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  pressing  through  the  wild  tangles  of 
the  land  beyond,  they  spent  six  months  in  hunt- 
ing and  exploring,  rinding  the  region  a  veritable 
hunter's  paradise. 

In  order  that  their  explorations  might  be  the 
more  thorough,  they  divided  into  two  parties, 
one  of  which  consisted  of  Boone  and  a  young 
man  named  Stewart. 


132  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

The  experiences  of  these  two  would  fill  a  book. 
They  hunted,  explored  the  rivers,  were  captured 
by  Indians,  escaped,  and  after  many  perilous 
vicissitudes  found  their  way  to  the  camp  of  their 
companions.  This  in  itself  would  have  been  a 
miracle  for  any  one  but  Daniel  Boone.  As  a 
tracker  and  woodsman  his  equal  has  probably 
never  lived. 

Not  a  sign  was  there  of  the  other  party  and 
from  that  day  to  this  the  world  does  not  know 
what  became  of  them.  They  were  never  seen 
or  heard  of  again. 

Boone  and  Stewart  continued  their  hunting 
until  early  winter  and  had  about  determined  to 
recross  the  mountains  and  journey  homeward 
when  they  saw  one  day  in  the  forest  two  men 
who,  as  they  approached,  proved  to  be  Daniel's 
brother,  Squire,  and  a  companion  who  were 
searching  for  them.  The  coincidence  of  this 
meeting  in  that  vast  wilderness  was  nothing  less 
than  miraculous. 

Squire  Boone  brought  good  reports  of  the 
family  back  in  the  Yadkin  and  the  four  men 
resolved  to  spend  another  winter  in  the  Ken- 
tucky wilderness.  Before  very  long  Stewart  was 
killed  by  the  Indians  and  Squire's  companion, 
wandering  off  alone  to  hunt,  never  returned.  His 
fate  also  remains  a  mystery. 

The  two  brothers  hunted  together  until  spring 
when    Squire    returned   to   North    Carolina    for 


DANIEL   BOONE  133 

supplies,  leaving  Daniel  alone  in  that  vast,  track- 
less wilderness. 

Those  lonely  months,  which  the  intrepid  hunter 
and  woodsman  spent  with  no  companion  but  his 
gun  constitute,  perhaps,  the  most  striking  and 
heroic  episode  of  his  whole  life.  There  was  the 
true  Daniel  Boone  in  all  his  romantic  greatness! 

In  the  early  summer  his  brother  returned  • 
they  met  at  an  appointed  spot.  From  July,  1770, 
to  March,  1771,  they  hunted  and  explored  and 
finally  hit  upon  a  spot  along  the  Kentucky  River 
where  they  decided  a  permanent  settlement 
should  be  made  —  though,  alas,  no  settlement 
could  be  permanent  for  Daniel  Boone.  He  had 
been  absent  from  his  home  for  more  than  two 
years  and  the  brothers  now  set  forth,  with  a 
goodly  store  of  peltries,  for  the  Yadkin  Vail 

Beaching  their  home  no  time  was  lost  in 
making  preparations  for  the  migration  into  the 
promised  land.  In  September,  1773,  the  little 
caravan,  consisting  of  the  Boone  family  and  sev- 
eral others,  set  off  on  its  journey  across  the 
mountains.  But  misfortune  befell  the  pioneers, 
one  of  Boone's  sons  was  killed  by  the  Indian  , 
and  the  party,  greatly  disheartened,  settled  in 
western  Virginia,  much  to  Boone's  disappoint- 
ment. 

In  time,  however,  the  vicissitudes  of  his  life 
were  to  take  him  again  into  Kentucky,  in  177.", 
he  was  engaged  to  lead  a  party  into  the  land 


134  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

which  lie  loved  so  well  and  to  build  a  fort  in 
the  country  between  the  Kentucky  and  Cumber- 
land Rivers,  where  a  proprietary  company  had 
secured  a  vast  tract  of  land.  It  was  purposed 
to  make  the  fort  the  headquarters  of  the  com- 
pany and  around  it  grew  up  the  famous  settle*- 
ment  of  Boonsborough,  fittingly  named  in  honor 
of  the  leader  and  moving  spirit  of  the  adven- 
turous pioneers  who  settled  there. 

When  the  fort  was  finished  Boone  brought 
his  good  wife  and  their  children  to  this  new 
home;  other  families  soon  followed,  and  so  be- 
gan the  settlement  of  Kentucky  in  the  first  year 
of  the  War  of  Independence. 

We  cannot,  in  so  small  a  compass,  attempt  a 
detailed  history  of  this  community  in  the  wilder- 
ness. In  time,  other  settlements  were  started 
here  and  there  and  the  enterprise  thrived. 

Owing  to  the  depredations  of  the  Indians,  the 
settlers  found  it  futile  to  attempt  agriculture 
save  on  the  smallest  scale;  they  must  needs  de- 
pend much  upon  the  prowess  and  sure  aim  of 
Daniel  Boone  for  their  food  supplies,  and  the 
redoubtable  hunter  and  trapper  did  not  disap- 
point them.  It  is  doubtful,  indeed,  if  any  record 
for  hunting  and  marksmanship  can  be  mentioned 
in  the  same  breath  with  his,  unless  it  be  the  spe- 
cialized record  of  William  F.  Cody's  amazing 
buffalo  hunts.  We  cannot  but  infer  that  the 
little   settlement  of  Boonsborough  depended,  at 


DANIEL   BOONE  135 

times,   almost   exclusively   upon   its    resourceful 

leader,  who  know  the  forest  as  the  Puritan  knew 
his  catechism. 

At  one  time  Boone's  daughter,  Jemima,  and 
two  girl  companions  were  captured  by  the  In- 
dians. Jemima,  though  but  fourteen,  must  haw 
been  not  only  a  true  daughter  of  her  father  but 
a  true  child  of  the  forest,  for  she  insisted  on 
blazing  the  trees  as  she  was  carried  along  and 
when  deterred  from  this  she  tore  her  dress, 
dropping  pieces  along  the  forest  trail. 

On  finding  that  the  girls  were  missing,  Boone 
formed  a  small  rescue  party  and  they  were  not 
long  in  picking  up  the  trail.  On  the  second  day 
they  came  upon  the  camp  of  the  Indians  and 
were  much  perplexed  for  a  means  of  rescuing 
the  girls  before  the  surprised  savages  had  a 
chance  to  kill  them. 

Creeping  stealthily,  Boone  and  one  companion 
approached,  undiscovered,  to  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  camp.  Then,  as  the  other  members  of 
the  party  opened  fire,  the  two  rushed  into  the 
camp  and,  placing  themselves  between  the  fright- 
ened captives  and  the  astonished  savages,  shot 
the  latter  one  by  one.  Some  fled  and  escaped, 
but  the  girls  were  saved. 

This  particular  adventure  was  destined  to  have 
a  very  happy  ending,  for  shortly  thereafter,  Eliz- 
abeth Calloway,  one  of  the  rescued  girls,  married 
the  young  man  wTho  had  been  Boone's  companion 


136  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

in  surprising  the  savages.  This  is  said  to  have 
been  the  first  marriage  ceremony  performed  in 
Kentucky. 

Boone's  encounters  with  the  Indians  were  alto- 
gether too  many  to  enumerate.  He  was  captured 
time  and  again,  escaped  time  and  again,  came 
near  to  being  scalped,  and  resorted  to  every  ruse 
and  subterfuge  which  long  familiarity  with  the 
woods  and  the  savages  had  taught  him.  He  was 
a  marvel  not  only  of  prowess  but  of  cunning,  and 
it  would  require  a  volume  to  tell  in  full  the  story 
of  his  deeds  and  adventures. 

One  memorable  instance  of  his  being  captured, 
however,  must  be  told,  because  of  its  relation 
to  events  which  followed.  While  hunting  he  was 
surprised  by  a  large  band  of  Indians  and  made 
captive  along  with  several  companions. 

On  learning  that  his  captors  were  on  their  way 
to  attack  Boonsborough  he  told  them  that  he  had 
wearied  of  the  settlement,  quarreled  with  the 
people,  and  intended  not  to  return  there.  He 
represented  that  Boonsborough  had  ample  de- 
fences, that  many  new  settlers  had  lately  arrived, 
and  that  an  attack  upon  the  fort  would  prove 
a  very  perilous  enterprise. 

In  plain  truth,  the  place  was  all  but  defence- 
less without  Boone  and  his  companions,  but  the 
Indians  were  greatly  impressed  with  his  convinc- 
ing representations  and,  deciding  that  discretion 
was  the  better  part  of  valor,  retraced  their  way 


DANIEL    BOONE  137 

to  their  own  village,  contenting  themselves  with 
the  captives  they  had  made.  Tims  Boone  sacri- 
ficed himself  to  save  Boonsborough. 

The  singular  story  of  his  long  detention  among 
these  Shawnee  savages  would  fill  a  hook.  His 
companions  were  distributed  among  other  tribes 
and  he  had  no  further  tidings  of  them.  Ho  he- 
came  a  great  favorite  of  the  chief,  Black  Fish, 
who  liked  him  so  much  that  he  went  through  the 
ceremony  of  adopting  him,  giving  him  the  name 
of  "Big  Turtle." 

Big  Turtle  kept  a  weather  eye  upon  his 
hospitable  captors  and  soon  perceived  that  in 
conjunction  with  other  tribes  they  were  making 
elaborate  preparations  for  a  great  attack  upon 
Boonsborough. 

The  name  of  Big  Turtle  was  a  singularly  in- 
appropriate one  for  so  wily  and  fleet  a  prisoner 
as  Boone,  as  the  genial  Black  Fish  was  presently 
to  learn,  for  when  the  captive  had  become  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  their  plans  he  disap- 
peared, much  to  the  consternation  of  his  guards, 
and  hit  the  trail  for  his  beloved  Boonsborough. 

Again  the  story  of  his  one  hundred  and  fifty 
mile  journey  homeward  would  make  a  sizable 
volume.  He  had  but  one  meal  on  the  way;  he 
crossed  the  swift  and  turbulent  Ohio  in  a  ram- 
shackle canoe  left  on  the  shore  by  Indians,  and 
finally,  by  hook  and  crook,  he  reached  the  set- 
tlement, where  he  was  greeted  as  one  risen  from 


138  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

the  dead.  His  wife  and  children,  supposing  him 
killed,  had  gone  back  to  their  old  home  in  the 
Yadkin. 

It  is  a  shame  to  crowd  the  famous  defence 
of  Boonsborough  into  a  few  words.  Indeed, 
Daniel  Boone,  whether  in  type  or  in  life,  re- 
quired space.  The  whole  Kentucky  wilderness 
was  not  big  enough  for  him,  and  even  his  hum- 
ble biographer  must  needs  have  plenty  of  elbow 
room. 

You  may  suppose  that  the  forest  fort  became 
at  once  the  scene  of  feverish  activity,  of  which 
Boone  was  the  leading  spirit.  The  Indians  soon 
advanced,  and  to  check  and  discourage  them 
Boone  with  a  small  party  sallied  forth,  surprised 
an  isolated  band,  and  drove  them  back. 

But  the  main  body  came  on  apace  under  the 
redoubtable  leadership  of  Black  Fish,  who,  we 
may  suppose,  was  deeply  chagrined  and  wound- 
ed at  the  base  ingratitude  of  his  foster  son, 
Black  Turtle,  who  now  awaited  his  coming 
within  the  hastily  strengthened  stockade. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  the  savage  host  some  very 
nice  diplomatic  intercourse  took  place.  They  de- 
manded the  surrender  of  the  fort,  and  Boone, 
who  was  not  yet  satisfied  with  the  preparations 
for  defence,  asked  for  two  days  in  which  to  con- 
sider the  demand.  The  preparations  were  con- 
tinued in  feverish  haste  and  at  the  end  of  the 
two  days  Boone  advised  the  besiegers  that  he 


DANIEL   BOONE  139 

had  not,  and  never  had  had,  any  intention  of 
surrendering. 

Black  Fish  was  no  match  for  Big  Turtle  in 
the  arts  of  diplomacy. 

The  Indians  then  suggested  a  Parle}1-,  which 
was  granted,  and,  upon  their  attempted  treach- 
ery in  trying  to  overpower  the  members  of  the 
council,  all  pretense  ended  and  a  lively  firing 
began. 

From  the  walls  of  the  stockade  Boone  and 
his  companions  poured  volley  after  volley  among 
the  besieging  host.  The  women  within  the  fort 
moulded  bullets  and  few  that  left  Boone's  rifle 
were  wasted.  The  fight  became  furious.  Eeal- 
izing  the  hopelessness  of  their  attack  in  the  face 
of  the  white  men's  sure  aim,  the  Indians  at 
length  set  fire  to  the  fort,  but  a  timely  shower 
extinguished  the  flames. 

At  last,  having  suffered  a  very  heavy  loss, 
the  disheartened  savages  withdrew.  Boone  and 
his  companions  had  put  up  a  gallant  defense, 
losing  but  two  of  their  number.  This  was  the 
end  of  Black  Fish's  ambitious  designs  against 
Boonsborough,  for  he  doubtless  felt  that  as  long 
as  his  whilom  protege  was  there  attack  would 
be  useless. 

Be  this  as  it  might,  Big  Turtle  presently 
started  for  North  Carolina  with  the  intention 
of  convincing  his  family  that  he  was  not  dead. 
We  are  not  permitted  a  glimpse  of  their  joy- 


140  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ous  consternation  at  beholding  him  alive  and 
"well;  but  in  any  event  they  accompanied  him 
back  to  Boonsborough,  which  was  now^  begin- 
ning to.  be  quite  a  community.  The  old  woods- 
man contemplated  the  new  cabins,  not  without 
a  pang  of  regret,  and  a  growing  longing  for  the 
old  solitude  beset  him. 

Soon  with  his  family  he  again  penetrated  the 
forest,  crossed  the  Kentucky  Eiver,  selected  a 
wild  spot  remote  from  human  intercourse,  and 
settled  down  once  more  to  the  lonely  pioneer 
life  which  he  loved  so  well. 

In  1782,  while  he  was  visiting  Boonsborough, 
a  messenger  rode  into  town  one  day  with  the 
news  that  the  Indians  were  attacking  Bryan's 
Station,  a  small  place  some  miles  to  the  west- 
ward. 

A  rescue  party,  including  Boone,  was  imme- 
diately formed,  but  when  they  reached  Bryan's 
Station  they  found  that  the  Indians  had  gone 
away  after  a  stout  resistance  by  the  settlers. 

Notwithstanding  the  heroic  repulse  of  the  sav- 
ages, it  was  resolved  that  they  should  not  escape 
without  further  punishment,  and  the  question 
arose  whether  the  rescue  party  should  wait  for 
reinforcements  from  the  country  round  about 
or  trail  the  retreating  red  men  without  delay. 

Unfortunately,  the  latter  course  was  decided 
upon,  and  they  came  upon  the  savages  safely 
ambushed  in  a  wild  hilly  region  beyond  the  river. 


DANIEL    BOONE  141 

It  would  have  been  well  if  the  party  had 
accepted  the  councils  of  Boone,  who  knew  the 
country  thoroughly  and  understood  perfectly  the 
great  advantage  which  the  Indians  had  in  their 
lurking  place.  He  advised  that  they  pause  where 
they  were  and  wait  for  reinforcements;  but  a 
certain  hair-brained  dare-devil  among  them, 
named  McGary,  started  suddenly  to  ford  the 
stream,  calling  upon  all  who  were  not  cowards 
to  follow  him. 

Impetuously  they  crossed  after  him,  and,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  there  presently  fol- 
lowed a  bloody  hand-to-hand  struggle  between 
them,  and  a  company  of  Indians  greatly  out- 
numbering them.  The  white  men,  having  dis- 
charged their  rifles,  were  forced  to  fight  with 
the  butt  ends  against  the  frantic  tomahawk  as- 
saults of  their  yelling  assailants. 

In  the  bloody  conflict  Boone  found  himself 
apart  from  his  comrades,  fighting  frantically 
with  his  clubbed  gun  and  hunting-knife.  His 
son,  Isaac,  had  been  mortally  wounded  and  lay 
dying  near  him.  He  lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms 
and,  battling  desperately,  he  succeeded  in  ('hid- 
ing the  Indians  and  reached  a  deep  ravine, 
where,  in  a  rocky  glen,  he  tenderly  laid  the 
body  in  which  life  was  now  extinct.  Then  he 
made  his  way  back  and  crossed  the  river,  fight- 
ing desperately. 

The  Indians  paid  dearly  for  their  bloody  vie- 


142  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

tory,  and  Daniel  Boone  was  among  those  who 
later  devastated  their  country  and  wreaked  such 
vengeance  upon  them  as  to  leave  the  settlements 
of  Kentucky  safe  from  further  molestation. 

The  last  battle  of  the  War  of  Independence 
had  been  fought  and  Boone  was  now  nearly  fifty 
years  old — still  rugged  and  indomitable.  He  was 
growing  old  as  an  oak  grows  old. 

Some  eleven  years  later  he  migrated  again,  this 
time  into  the  wild  country  of  Missouri,  where  he 
resumed  his  old  life  of  hunting.  Here,  in  the 
frontier  cabin,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  soli- 
tude and  wildness  which  they  loved,  his  good 
wife  died  in  the  year  1813;  but  the  rugged  old 
pioneer  was  still  surrounded  by  his  children  and 
grand-children,  and  his  trusty  rifle  remained  his 
constant  friend. 

When  Lewis  and  Clark  passed  through  the 
Missouri  country  in  1804  on  their  memorable 
expedition  to  the  Pacific  they  came  upon  an  old 
man  in  the  woods  who  wore  a  coonskin  cap  and 
an  ancient  suit  of  buckskin.    It  was  Daniel  Boone. 

He  lived  to  be  eighty-six  years  old,  ranging 
his  beloved  forest  almost  to  the  very  end.  The 
wilderness  withheld  none  of  its  secrets  from 
him,  but  imparted  to  him  the  blessings  which 
only  its  dim  grandeur  and  solemn  dignity  can 
give — the  blessings  of  health,  serenity  and  peace. 

The  old  pioneer  died  on  the  twenty-third  of 
September,   1820.     Twenty-five  years  later   the 


DANIEL   BOONE  143 

Blue  Grass  State  claimed  the  ashes  of  her  fa- 
vorite son  and  the  mortal  remains  of  Daniel 
Boone  and  those  of  his  wife  were  broughl  hack 
to  Kentucky,  with  which  state  his  name  is  for- 
ever associated,  and  whose  wondrous  hills  and 
silent  forests  and  winding  rivers  he  had  been 
the  first  to  explore. 


FRANCIS    MARION 

How  lie  fought  the  Cherokees;  how  he  helped  to  build  the 
palmetto  fort;  how  he  formed  his  singular  brigade  and 
what  they  did,  together  with  other  particulars  in  the 
adventurous  life  of  the  "Swamp  Fox." 

We  come  now  to  a  scout  who  was  neither  a 
land  scout  nor  a  water  scout,  but  a  swamp  scout, 
the  very  mention  of  whose  name  suggests  gloomy, 
impenetrable  marshes,  dank  underbrush  and  dim 
recesses  redolent  with  the  pungent  odor  of  trop- 
ical foliage. 

For  these  were  the  haunts  of  Francis  Marion. 
If  he  had  one  pre-eminent  quality  it  was  the 
quality  of  elusiveness.  He  did  not  escape,  he 
did  not  hide,  in  the  ordinary  sense;  he  disap- 
peared; and  ail  the  resources  of  man  and  all  his 
tracking  and  trailing  lore  could  not  find  him. 

He  was  a  sort  of  Robin  Hood  of  the  morass; 
and,  like  that  redoubtable  outlaw  of  the  ancient 
greenwood,  he  had  his  company  of  merry  men. 

Francis  Marion  was  born  in  South  Carolina 
in  1732,  the  same  year  in  which  George  Wash- 
ington was  born.  He  was  of  Huguenot  descent, 
and  his  grandfathers  had  been  forced  to  flee  and 
hide  from  the  persecution  of  Louis  XIV  so  often 

144 


FRANCIS    MARION  145 

that  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  elusive  habit  became 
fixed  in  the  family  and  burst  forth  in  young 
Francis  as  a  veritable  art. 

When  young  Marion  was  sixteen  years  of  ; 
he  went  to  sea  in  a  small  vessel  bound  lor  the 
"West  Indies.  The  ship  was  wrecked  and  its  crew 
drifted  for  days  in  a  small  boat  without  food  or 
water.  Two  of  them  starved  to  death.  Tin; 
others  were  finally  rescued  and  Francis  Marion 
never  went  to  sea  again. 

When  he  was  twenty- three  years  old  his  fatli ti- 
died and  upon  the  young  man  fell  the  duty  of 
supporting  his  mother.  They  moved  to  a  place 
in  South  Carolina  known  as  Pond  Bluff,  Avhere 
he  made  his  home  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 
The  estate  is  still  called  Marion's  Plantation 
and  lies  within  cannon  shot  of  the  old  battle- 
field of  Eutaw  Springs. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  depth 
and  gloom  of  the  uninhabited  lowlands  of  South 
Carolina  in  those  early  days.  The  dim  forest, 
upon  the  edge  of  which  stood  his  home,  extend- 
ed far  to  the  westward  and  down  into  dripping 
swamps  and  treacherous  glades.  There  were  no 
paths  or  trails  there  and  none  knew  the  secrets 
of  that  tangled  morass.  There  the  lazy  mud 
turtle  and  the  treacherous  snake  basked,  stupid 
and  unmolested;  the  swamp  fox  stole  about  amid 
the  dank  undergrowth,  torpid  lizards  and  un- 
canny birds  perched  on  slimy  rock  or  drooping 


146  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

limb,  and  none  disturbed  them  in  their  chosen 
haunts. 

But  there  was  one  man  who  came  to  know 
every  nook  and  recess  of  that  dim,  damp  wilder- 
ness. This  was  Francis  Marion,  and  they  called 
him  the  Swamp  Fox  of  South  Carolina. 

His  frame  was  slight  and  supple;  he  was  agile 
as  a  panther;  he  could  run  like  a  deer.  Sleep 
was  a  superfluous  and  troublesome  thing  of 
which  he  seldom  thought.  He  could  go  for  days 
without  food.  He  was  wont  to  issue  forth  at 
night  like  a  bat  and  perform  his  amazing  feats. 
In  the  War  of  Independence  he  conducted  many 
raids,  yet  such  was  the  lightning  rapidity  and 
marvelous  elusiveness  of  the  man  that  many  of 
the  British  believed  to  the  very  end  that  no  such 
person  as  Francis  Marion  really  existed.  Many 
an  English  child  in  the  eighteenth  century  heard 
of  him  along  with  St.  Nicholas  and  Jack  Frost 
and  Father  Time  and  other  renowned  worthies 
who  have  never  been  actually  seen  in  the  flesh. 

When  Marion  was  twenty- seven  years  old  a 
report  reached  the  colony  that  the  Cherokee  In- 
dians were  massacring  the  settlers  along  the 
Western  frontier.  Tales  of  horror  came  from 
the  pioneers  of  midnight  raids,  of  kidnappings, 
murderings  and  scalpings. 

Presently  it  became  known  that  this  bloody 
tribe  was  mustering  its  braves  to  deal  a  mighty 
blow  to  the  colonists. 


FRANCIS    MARIO X  147 

Assembling  a  little  army  of  volunteers,  Fran- 
cis Marion  made  ready  to  pursue  and  attack  tin- 
warlike  Cherokees,  but  he  was  doomed,  just  tin  . 
to  disappointment.  The  wily  Indians,  perceiving 
these  ominous  preparations,  decided  that  discre- 
tion was  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  peace 
reigned  in  the  colony  for  two  years  more. 

Then  the  storm  which  had  been  brewing  burst 
in  all  its  fury;  the  savages  made  the  nights  hor- 
rible with  their  war-whoops  and  murderous  raids, 
and  there  followed  a  brief  but  sanguinary  war. 

Marion  flew  to  the  governor  to  offer  his  serv- 
ices, which  were  promptly  accepted,  for  his 
knowledge  of  the  woods  and  the  Indian  country 
made  his  presence  as  a  scout  and  leader 
inestimable  value.  He  was  made  a  lieutenant 
under  a  man  who  afterwards,  like  himself,  be- 
came  famous — the   gallant   Captain   Moultrie. 

A  miscellaneous  army  of  about  two  thousand 
men  was  soon  pushing  its  way  through  the  wil- 
derness to  the  homes  of  the  suffering  pioneers. 
It  must  have  been  an  odd-looking  host;  sonic 
of  the  men  were  clad  in  the  gorgeous  uniform 
of  George  III,  and  some  wore  no  uniforms  at 
all. 

Through  tangled  brush  and  treacherous  mo- 
rass they  pressed  on  until  they  reached  a  deep 
gorge  between  two  mountains  which  formed  the 
only  pass  into  the  land  of  the  red  men. 

At  this  point  Marion  was  chosen  to   lead   a 


148  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

small  party  forward  and  explore  the  dangerous 
path.  Suddenly,  as  he  reached  the  entrance  of 
a  long  ravine,  wild  shrieks  were  heard  and  a 
storm  of  bullets  and  arrows  came  whizzing 
among  them. 

Twenty-one  of  Marion's  men  fell  dead.  Then 
from  behind  rocks  and  trees  rose  scores  of 
painted  savages,  pursuing  the  survivors  back 
to  the  main  army  which  was  following. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  broke  upon  a  fright- 
ful scene.  The  Indians  were  defending  the  pass 
which  led  into  their  country  and  the  whites, 
fighting  every  inch  of  their  way,  were  slowly 
pressing  them  back. 

In  this  desperate  fighting  Marion  was  always 
in  the  lead  and  at  almost  every  shot  fired  from 
his  well-aimed  rifle  some  yelling  savage  dropped 
from  rock  or  cliff. 

The  red  men  fought  like  maniacs,  but  at  last 
the  whites  cut  their  way  through  the  bloody  pass 
and  entered  the  land  of  the  Cherokees. 

The  pride  and  power  of  this  warlike  tribe  was 
at  last  broken  and  their  murderous  depredations 
were  at  an  end.  Broken-spirited,  they  became 
wanderers  over  the  land.  Some  cast  their  lots 
with  other  tribes  in  the  Far  North,  but  most  of 
them  fell  to  begging  from  place  to  place  among 
the  prosperous  settlements  along  the  shore. 
Thus,  and  largely  through  the  prowess  of  young 
Marion,  ended  the  mighty  tribe  of  Cherokees. 


FRANCIS    MARION  14!) 

One  more  episode  must  be  told,  of  the  days 

before  Francis  Marion  became  the  "Swamp 
Fox."  The  crushing  of  the  Cherokees  was  fol- 
lowed by  sixteen  years  of  peace  for  the  dari 

young  fighter.  Then  the  news  of  the  Battle  of 
Lexington  readied  the  southern  colonii 

Instantly  young  Marion  was  in  the  Baddle,  and 
flying  from  town  to  town  gathering  recruits 
for  the  regiment  which  lie  had  now  determined  to 
form. 

At  this  time  it  was  known  that  the  British 
general,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  was  on  his  way 
Charleston  with  a  fleet  to  attack  the  city.  Nbi 
far  from  the  mainland  was  a  small  piece  of  land 
known  as  Sullivan's  Island,  and  here  Marion 
with  his  hastily  recruited  band  started  to 
a  fort. 

They  built  it  of  palmetto  trees  and  plastered 
it  with  mud.  It  must  have  been  an  odd  sort  of 
defence.  They  called  it  after  General  Moultrie 
because  he  was  in  chief  command  there.  It  was 
soft  and  yielding  and  shook  with  every  passing 
wind.  The  arrogant  General  Lee,  who  had  ar- 
rived in  Charleston,  laughed  at  it  and  said  it  v. 
no  defence  at  all.  But,  like  the  tall  and  slender 
bullrush  in  the  gale,  it  bent  and  swayed  but  did 
not  break. 

While  these  preparations  were  going  on  Ma- 
rion was  made  a  Major-General. 

It  was  an  enthusiastic  band  of  men  that  worked 


150  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

upon  this  odd  makeshift  fort  and  scarcely  was 
it  finished  when  the  cry  arose: 

"A  fleet!    A  fleet!" 

It  was  indeed  Clinton,  the  British  general,  and 
the  little  army  prepared  to  defend  its  strong- 
hold. As  soon  as  the  ships  were  close  enough 
a  terrific  fire  was  opened  upon  the  little  fort. 
Marion  himself  called  it  the  battle  of  David  and 
Goliath.  The  little  fortress,  shaking  with  the 
shock  of  her  cannons,  hurled  a  storm  of  iron 
curses  at  the  approaching  foe.  The  flag  was  shot 
down,  but  one  of  Marion's  men  raised  it  aloft 
and  there  it  stayed  throughout  the  rest  of  that 
glorious  day,  until  the  British  fleet  raised  an- 
chor and  stole  away  with  a  hundred  wounded 
and  more  than  fifty  dead. 

That  was  the  end  of  Marion's  career  as  a 
soldier  in  the  ordinary  sense.  Thereafter  he 
was  to  be  unique — even  among  scouts  and  raid- 
ers. He  gathered  about  him  a  miscellaneous 
company  of  kindred  spirits,  woodsmen  and  ad- 
venturers, who,  though  abounding  in  patriotism, 
loved  fighting  and  adventure  for  their  own  sweet 
sake. 

This  haphazard  band  was  known  as  Marion's 
Brigade;  but  they  came  no  nearer  to  being  a 
brigade,  as  we  understand  that  military  term, 
than  the  followers  of  Eobin  Hood  were  a  bri- 
gade. They  must  have  been  a  motley  crew  in 
their    combination    of    homespun    and    tattered 


FRANCIS    MARION  151 

finery,  which  we  are  told  their  redoubtable  leader 
wore  with  such  a  fine  air  as  greatly  to  shock 
the  dignified  General  Gates,  who  arrived  in  the 
South  to  conduct  military  operations  there. 
Some  of  them  had  no  uniforms  at  all,  others 
had  no  arms,  but  there  was  one  valuable  asset 
which  they  all  had — particularly  the  wily  leader. 
They  knew  the  forest  through  and  through,  and 
the  tangled,  impenetrable  marshes  in  which  they 
made  their  homes. 

The  first  thing  that  Marion  did  was  to  sack 
the  sawmills  of  the  neighborhood  in  order  to  get 
steel  for  his  weapons.  We  are  not  told  whether 
they  used  buzz-saws  in  the  game  of  hide-and-seek 
which  they  played,  but  we  know  that  they  pro- 
cured a  number  of  hand-saws  which  they  ham- 
mered into  rough  swords. 

Riding  forth  through  swamp  and  forest,  they 
crossed  the  Pedee  River,  where  they  found  a 
body  of  Tories  encamped.  These  were  greatly 
surprised  (as  parties  attacked  by  Marion  usually 
were)  and  they  retreated  after  losing  a  captain 
and  several  soldiers.  None  of  Marion's  men 
were  killed,  and  they  rode  gaily  forth  again  into 
the  dense  forest. 

Not  far  away  they  descended  upon  another 
camp.  Marion  had  left  some  of  his  little  band 
in  ambush,  and  he  pretended  to  retreat  from  the 
enemy  until  he  had  drawn  them  well  out  of  their 
stronghold  into  the  woods,  then  he  suddenly  sum- 


152  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

moned  his  ambushed  men,  defeated  the  enemy 
and  disappeared.  An  expedition  was  formed  to 
trace  him  and  capture  him.  One  of  the  British 
officers  nearly  lost  his  life  in  quicksand,  and  at 
length  the  party  returned,  drenched,  bedraggled 
and  weary — but  without  their  captive. 

Not  long  after  this  Marion  and  his  followers 
rode  to  the  Upper  Santee,  where  a  rnmor  reached 
them  that  Gates  had  been  defeated  by  Cornwal- 
lis.  Learning  that  a  strong  British  guard  was 
approaching  with  some  prisoners,  Marion  waited, 
fell  upon  the  British,  routed  them,  freed  the 
prisoners  and  disappeared. 

Cornwallis  ordered  Marion's  "immediate  pun- 
ishment." But  you  must  catch  your  goose  be- 
fore you  can  kill  him;  and  Marion  was  not  to  be 
caught. 

He  had,  in  fact,  turned  south  toward  the 
swamps  and  forests  which  he  knew  so  well. 
The  journey  was  full  of  excitement.  His  men 
worshipped  him  and  loved  the  adventurous 
game  they  were  playing.  He  broke  up  meetings 
of  British  loyalists,  destroyed  recruiting  parties, 
intercepted  communications,  and  spread  terror 
everywhere.  He  would  arrive  unexpectedly  in 
the  darkness,  do  his  work  like  lightning,  and  be 
gone. 

It  was  a  new  kind  of  warfare,  all  his  own. 
Often  when  the  little  party  disappeared  within 
the  morass   they  would  disband,   trailing  their 


FRANCIS    MARION  153 

way  separately,  and  reuniting  at  some  distant 
point. 

The  British  Colonel  Tarleton  was  very  anxions 
to  catch  the  wily  Marion.  With  high  hopes  he 
set  out  for  the  reported  hiding-place  of  the  band. 
Marion  learned  of  his  coming,  concealed  some 
of  his  men,  lured  the  unsuspecting  Tarleton  into 
a  pestilent  thicket,  summoned  his  men  forth  at 
the  proper  moment,  beat  the  British  unmerci- 
fully and  left  them  to  pick  their  way  back  into 
the  world  again  as  best  they  could.  Tarleton 
was  greatly  chagrined.  He  scarcely  realized 
what  had  happened  to  him  until  it  was  over. 

Then  Marion  started  north  again.  He  rode 
night  and  day,  finally  pitching  his  camp  near 
the  head  of  the  Waccamaw  River.  Here,  in  the 
deep  forest,  the  hungry  little  party  sat  down 
to  dine.  Seated  on  fallen  trees  and  on  the 
ground,  they  made  their  simple  meal  of  sweet 
potatoes  and  hominy.  We  are  told  that  they 
were  wont  to  beguile  the  time  on  such  occasions 
by  telling  stories,  though  surely  no  story  which 
they  told  could  have  been  more  romantic  than 
the  tale  of  their  own  experiences. 

At  last,  in  1780,  the  British  resolved  that  this 
troublesome  band  of  men  must  be  captured; 
there  must  be  no  more  half-way  measures. 

Marion  was  at  that  time  located  on  a  small 
piece  of  land  called  Snow's  Island,  which  was 
surrounded  by  marsh. 


154  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

An  expedition  was  formed  to  dislodge  him 
from  this  stronghold.  He  waited  until  the  ex- 
peditionary party  was  well  within  the  forest 
lowlands.  Then  he  sallied  forth  and  met  it  in 
a  dismal  swamp.  A  short  conflict  followed  and 
Marion  retreated.  He  always  knew  when  to 
retreat. 

The  next  day  the  battle  was  continued  at  an- 
other spot  not  far  distant  and  the  British  lost 
rapidly.  The  faultless  aim  of  Marion's  rangers 
brought  down  some  redcoats  with  every  shot. 

At  last  the  British  commander  sent  a  note  to 
Marion  complaining  of  his  mode  of  warfare  and 
urging  him  to  come  out  in  the  open  and  fight. 
The  following  day  Marion  did  so  and  beat  the 
enemy  thoroughly. 

Then  he  disappeared  again  within  the  forest. 
Where  had  he  gone?  No  one  knew.  Somewhere 
in  that  vast,  solemn  wilderness  he  and  his  merry 
men  were  gathered  about  their  cheerful  camp- 
fire;  but  none  could  trail  them,  for  their  remote 
haunts  were  amid  the  swampy  fastnesses  where 
there  were  no  tracks  or  trails. 

The  British  commander  was  well-nigh  insane. 
On  account  of  this  troublesome  and  elusive  little 
band  he  was  compelled  to  establish  a  line  of 
fortified  posts  extending  all  about  the  southern 
colonies. 

Once,  as  Marion's  men  were  crossing  a  bridge 
they  heard  an  alarm  gun  from  a  British  camp. 


FRANCIS   MARION  155 

They  galloped  over,  reached  the  main  road, 
and  there  dismounted.  Marion  ordered  a  few 
picked  men  to  attack  the  old  house  near  by  where 
the  enemy  was  posted.  Another  detachment  was 
sent  to  the  right  and  a  band  of  horsemen  to  the 
left.  Marion  quickly  followed  with  a  small  re- 
serve. The  British  were  defeated  and  the  "fort" 
taken. 

Marion  and  his  men  then  rode  to  Williams- 
burgh,  where  they  obtained  tidings  of  other  gath- 
erings of  British  near  the  Black  River.  One  of 
these  was  reported  to  be  very  well  supplied  with 
muskets  and  ammunition,  and  Marion  cast  a 
longing  eye  upon  these  stores. 

At  midnight  he  rode  into  the  camp.  The  red- 
coats were  playing  cards  and  feasting  when  the 
little  band  fell  like  a  bolt  from  Heaven  among 
them.  Marion  succeeded  in  completely  annihi- 
lating them,  procured  the  stores,  and  was  off 
again  to  the  swamps. 

At  the  news  of  this  attack,  Tarleton  arose 
from  his  sick-bed,  resolved  to  crush,  once  and 
forever,  this  obstreperous  little  band.  He  set 
out  with  a  goodly  array  and  Marion,  as  usual, 
retreated  into  the  everglades.  Tarleton  advanced 
boldly  into  the  swamp  to  overtake  him,  but  could 
not  find  him.  Through  bogs  and  tangled,  drip- 
ping underbrush  he  pushed  his  way,  but  Marion 
was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

At  length  Tarleton,  weary  and  discouraged  and 


156  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

perishing  with  thirst  and  hunger,  turned  to  his 
followers  and  said: 

"Come,  my  boys,  let  us  go  back.  We  can 
soon  find  that  gamecock,  Sumpter.  But  as  for 
this  damned  swamp-fox,  why,  the  devil  himself 
couldn't  catch  him!" 

And  at  that  very  moment  the  "Swamp  Fox" 
with  his  adventurous  brigade  was  scarce  a  mile 
distant ! 

Such  was  the  career  of  Francis  Marion  — 
unique  among  woodsmen,  pathfinders,  scouts 
and  soldiers. 

After  the  war  he  returned  to  his  quiet  home. 
The  old  place  had  been  sadly  treated  by  the 
British,  who,  being  unable  to  find  the  "Swamp 
Fox,"  had  taken  vengeance  on  his  estate. 

During  his  declining  years  the  old  raider,  who 
was  a  bachelor,  met  a  fair  lady  named  Mary 
Videau,  who,  like  himself,  was  of  Huguenot  an- 
cestry. They  were  married  and  his  last  days 
were  spent  in  simple  happiness.  He  was  greatly 
loved  by  all  living  round  about,  and  his  name 
was  spoken  always  with  reverence  and  affection. 

In  his  last  moments  he  was  able  to  say,  "I 
thank  God  that  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  my  heart 
and  say  that  I  have  never  intentionally  done 
wrong  to  any." 


SAMUEL  BRADY,  RANGER 

How  he  narrowly  escaped  burning  at  the  stake;  how  he  made 
a  famous  leap,  and  how  his  life  was  saved  by  a  gentle 
pond-lily.  Also  the  singular  account  of  how  he  stuffed 
a  horse;  how  he  attended  an  Indian  council  in  mas- 
querade; how  he  rescued  Jenny  Stripes  and  why  he 
tomahawked  her  little  dog;  together  with  other  partic- 
ulars in  the  career  of  the  man  who  was  said  to  be  the 
original  of  Cooper's  "Leather  Stocking." 

This  is  the  story  of  a  red-headed  scout  who 
came  of  a  red-headed  family  which,  as  every 
boy  knows,  means  spunk,  recklessness,  and  dar- 
ing. If  there  is  any  question  as  to  this  we  have 
only  to  narrate  that  Samuel  Brady's  father, 
James,  was  one  of  the  very  few  survivors  of 
his  regiment  in  the  Battle  of  the  Brandywine 
and  was  severely  wounded.  Shortly  after  the 
war  he  was  killed  by  the  Indians. 

James  Brady's  brother  John  was  also  wounded 
at  the  Brandywine.  Samuel's  brother  James, 
whose  hair  was  also  red,  but  exceedingly  long, 
being  surprised  one  day  by  the  savages,  ran  for 
his  gun,  procured  it,  shot  an  Indian,  ran  for 
another  gun,  shot  another  Indian,  was  at  last 
overpowered,  tomahawked  and  scalped. 

All  the  male  members   of  the  Brady   family 

157 


158  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

were  six  feet  tall  or  more,  most  of  them  had 
red  hair,  and  all  of  them,  to  the  second  line  re- 
moved, were  fighters. 

But  compared  with  Samuel  Brady,  chief  of 
the  Bangers,  they  were  as  the  other  planets  are 
to  Jupiter. 

Samuel  Brady  was  the  Daniel  Boone  of  west- 
ern Pennsylvania,  and  his  authenticated  adven- 
tures, I  should  warn  you,  read  like  extravagant 
fiction. 

He  was  more  than  a  scout,  he  was  more  than 
a  ranger;  he  was  a  character. 

One  or  two  of  his  exploits  have  an  Arabian 
Nights  flavor,  but  history  presents  its  records 
to  confirm  them,  and  so  far  as  Samuel's  own 
veracity  may  be  called  into  question,  he  was 
deeply  religious,  a  great  student  of  the  Bible,  a 
very  stickler  for  righteousness  and  truthfulness. 

He  was  born  in  the  year  1756  and  was  one 
of  thirteen  children,  eight  of  whom  were  boys. 
Three  of  these  died  while  still  young  and  all 
of  the  remaining  five  were  soldiers,  either  in 
the  Bevolution  or  in  the  War  of  1812. 

"When  the  War  of  Independence  broke  out, 
young  Samuel,  being  then  nineteen  years  of  age, 
enlisted  and  fought  gallantly  in  the  engage- 
ments near  Boston,  the  Battle  of  Long  Island, 
the  Battle  of  White  Plains,  the  Battle  of  Ger- 
mantown,  and,  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  he 
barely  escaped  with  his  life  at  the  terrible  mas- 


SAMUEL   BRADY,    RANGER         159 

sacre  of  Mad  Anthony  Wayne's  troops  at  Paoli. 

If  there  was  any  fighting  going  on  the  mem- 
bers of  the  red-headed  Brady  family  were  not 
likely  to  miss  it.  Samuel's  career  in  the  War 
of  Independence  was  one  of  continual  adventure. 
At  the  ghastly  affair  at  Paoli,  he  was  completely 
surrounded  and  death  seemed  inevitable,  when 
suddenly  he  made  a  desperate  rush  and  (to  use 
an  expression  which  must  be  used  often  in  any 
account  of  him)  barely  escaped  with  his  life. 

It  was  not,  however,  as  a  soldier  that  Sam 
Brady  was  pre-eminent,  but  rather  as  a  scout 
and  ranger,  guarding  the  western  frontiers  of 
Pennsylvania  from  hostile  savages,  as  Boone 
guarded  the  frontiers  of  Kentucky.  It  is  one 
of  the  freaks  of  history  that  his  name  is  not 
as  familiar  as  that  of  Boone,  for  his  adventures 
and  prowess  were  quite  as  remarkable. 

As  every  boy  knows,  the  present  flourishing 
city  of  Pittsburgh  derives  its  name  from  an  out- 
post fort  which  stood  there,  and  the  country  be- 
tween Pittsburgh  and  Lake  Erie,  which  is  trav- 
ersed by  the  Allegheny  River,  was  the  frontier 
country  of  Pennsylvania. 

It  was  a  very  wild  region,  infested  by  lurking 
red  men  ever  in  wait  for  those  who  ventured  to 
settle  in  its  depths,  and  at  times  the  solemn  still- 
ness of  its  vast  woods  re-echoed  with  their  war- 
whoops  and  the  cries  of  the  dying. 

It  was  in  this  remote  and  hostile  territory  that 


160  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Sam  Brady  and  his  rangers  roamed,  and  here 
some  of  his  most  remarkable  adventures  befell 
him.  He  was  a  typical  scout  and  frontiersman, 
ever  at  home  in  the  woods,  ever  on  the  trail  and 
ever  in  advance  of  civilization.  The  thriving 
towns  and  growing  settlements  to  the  east  of  his 
perilous  haunts  owed  him  and  his  little  band  a 
debt  of  gratitude  which  can  hardly  be  measured, 
for  they  were  a  sort  of  border  police,  clearing 
the  unknown  country  of  its  dangers  and  striving 
to  make  it  safe  for  the  hardy  but  less  adven- 
turous home  builders  who  were  ever  pressing 
farther  westward. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  adventure  of  this  re- 
doubtable scout  was  when  he  penetrated  with  a 
small  band  of  followers  into  the  wild  country 
which  is  now  part  of  the  State  of  Ohio,  in  pur- 
suit of  some  fugitive  Indians  who  had  committed 
depredations  in  his  own  county. 

In  the  locality  of  what  is  now  Portage  County, 
in  Ohio,  is  a  lake  which,  by  reason  of  the  rang- 
er's exploit,  was  named  after  him.  Here,  after 
an  exciting  chase  through  a  country  which  would 
have  been  impenetrable  to  any  but  the  hardiest 
and  most  persistent  ranger,  Brady  and  his  party 
succeeded  in  ambushing  their  quarry.  In  the 
fight  which  ensued  nearly  all  of  the  savages  were 
killed  and  Brady  and  his  men  were  congratulat- 
ing themselves  upon  their  complete  success  wThen 
suddenly  a  savage  war-whoop  rent  the  air  and 


SAMUEL    BEADY,    EANGER  161 

there  appeared  upon  tlie  scene,  apparently  by 
the  merest  chance,  a  party  of  savages  greatly 
outnumbering  the  little  band  of  rangers. 

But  Brady  and  his  followers  were  not  the  men 
to  flee,  despite  the  frightful  odds  against  them, 
and  they  fought  desperately  a  losing  game.  Some 
of  the  little  band  escaped,  but  most  of  them 
were  massacred  and  scalped.  Brady  himself  was 
taken  prisoner. 

The  savages  had  heard  of  the  tall  frontiers- 
man and  they  resolved  to  make  his  capture  the 
occasion  of  festivity,  so  instead  of  massacring 
him  out  of  hand  (which  would  have  been  the 
wiser  course,  as  things  turned  out)  they  bore 
him  to*  their  village  and  proceeded  to  circulate 
an  invitation  among  the  neighboring  tribes  to 
come  and  witness  the  pleasant  spectacle  of  his 
torture  and  death. 

It  was,  indeed,  to  be  a  gala  affair — an  exhibi- 
tion to  be  witnessed  with  solemn  delight,  and 
told  and  retold  by  the  old  squaws  in  days  to 
come.  From  far  and  near  on  the  appointed  day 
Indians  of  both  sexes,  old  and  young,  betook 
themselves  to  the  festive  scene  in  holiday  spirit 
and  array. 

"While  these  parties  were  arriving  a  sort  of 
preliminary  exhibition  was  given.  The  unhappy 
Brady  was  lashed  to  the  stake  and  the  flames 
allowed  to  play  about  his  limbs,  not,  however, 
close  enough  to  burn  him.    Thus,  while  the  hos- 


162  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

pit  able  hosts  were  busy  welcoming  the  new  ar- 
rivals, the  little  Indians  were  diverted  by  this 
amusing  spectacle. 

Suddenly,  in  a  moment  when  they  had  scamp- 
ered off,  perhaps  to  plan  some  new  torment,  Sam 
Brady,  whose  mighty  strength  his  captors  had 
not  estimated,  drew  his  gigantic  form  together, 
expanded  his  muscles  and  his  chest,  writhed, 
struggled,  tugged  .  .  . 

And  when  the  Indians  returned  to  the  spot 
they  found  it  would  be  necessary  to  call  off  the 
exhibition,  for  its  principal  actor  was  gone. 

Pursued  by  a  howling  mob  of  infuriated  In- 
dians, the  fugitive,  unarmed  and  all  but  naked, 
fled  through  the  dense  forest,  hiding  by  night 
and  hurrying  stealthily  by  day,  until  at  last  he 
regained  the  spot  where  he  had  been  captured. 
If  he  could  ford  a  river  here  he  would  be  com- 
paratively safe  in  the  familiar  country  beyond. 
To  his  surprise,  however,  the  Indians  had  reached 
the  ford  first  and  cut  off  his  only  path  of  escape. 

The  stream  at  this  point  flowed  in  a  roaring 
torrent  between  precipitous  banks,  which  at  the 
river's  narrowest  stretch  in  that  locality  were 
about  thirty  feet  apart. 

It  did  not  take  Sam  Brady  long  to  determine 
what  he  should  do.  The  Indians,  guarding  the 
ford,  and  knowing  that  he  was  at  their  mercy, 
did  not  concern  themselves  greatly  with  his 
maneuver  as  he  retreated  a  few  paces  from  the 


SAMUEL   BEADY,    RANGER         163 

precipice,  took  a  running  jump,  landed  below 
the  brink  of  the  wall  opposite,  scrambled  up,  and 
made  for  the  thicket  beyond.  It  all  happened 
in  a  moment,  and  again  Sam  Brady  had  barely 
escaped  ivith  his  life. 

One  of  the  Indians,  gazing  blankly  at  the  spot, 
said,  "White  man,  him  make  damn  good  jump. 
Red  man,  no  try." 

But  the  fleeing  ranger  was  not  permitted  to 
go  unscathed,  for  one  of  the  chagrined  savages 
managed  to  shoot  him  in  the  leg  as  he  disap- 
peared in  the  woods  beyond  the  river. 

Crossing  by  the  ford,  the  red  men  were  soon 
hot  upon  his  trail,  and  again  his  capture  seemed 
imminent,  for  he  was  lame  from  his  wound.  It 
happened,  however,  that  he  presently  reached 
the  lake  where  his  companions  had  been  mur- 
dered, and  seeing  some  pond  lilies  on  the  sur- 
face, a  bright  idea  came  to  him.  Crawling  into 
the  water,  he  completely  submerged  himself, 
breathing  through  the  hollow  stem  of  a  pond  lily. 

The  savages,  reaching  the  lake,  scoured  its 
shores  in  vain  for  the  elusive  quarry,  and  seeing 
the  trail  of  blood  leading  to  the  water  without 
any  corresponding  trail  from  it,  they  concluded 
that  he  was  drowned  and  retraced  their  weary 
way  homeward. 

Again  Sam  Brady  had  barely  escaped  with 
his  life. 


164  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

The  year  1782  was  long  known  as  the  Bloody 
Year  because  of  the  sanguinary  warfare  of  the 
savages  at  that  time.  Indeed,  it  was  rumored 
throughout  the  towns  that  a  bloody  conspiracy 
was  on  foot,  in  which  several  tribes  were  to  par- 
ticipate in  an  enterprise  no  less  ambitious  than 
that  of  wiping  out  the  settlements  in  Pennsyl- 
vania and  thereabout. 

General  Washington  was  greatly  concerned  by 
these  rumors,  and  he  requested  that  a  suitable 
man  be  selected  and  sent  forth  to  ascertain  if 
they  were  well  founded.  It  would  be  necessary 
for  the  messenger  to  adopt  Indian  disguise  and 
to  speak  the  Indian  language,  and  to  do  this, 
as  we  should  say  now,  was  Sam  Brady's  middle 
name. 

The  choice  quickly  fell  upon  him,  and  he  was 
asked  how  many  companions  he  would  like  to 
have  accompany  him  on  his  perilous  expedition. 
He  answered  that  he  would  like  one  companion. 
It  would  be  hardly  fair  to  say  that  his  request 
was  excessive.  The  comrade  chosen  for  him 
was  Lewis  Wetzel,  an  appropriate  choice,  for  if 
ever  there  were  another  Sam  Brady,  Lewis  Wet- 
zel was  that  man. 

Covering  their  faces  with  war  paint,  blacken- 
ing their  hair  and  donning  the  Indian  garb,  the 
two  men  sallied  forth  to  play  the  part  of  spies 
in  a  hostile  camp.  Arrived  at  the  great  council 
which  was  being  held,  they  introduced  themselves 


SAMUEL   BRADY,    RANGER  165 

as  a  delegation  from  a  distant  tribe  which  was 
desirous  of  joining  the  great  conspiracy. 

Surprising  as  it  may  seem,  the  pair  were  hos- 
pitably received,  and  mingling  freely  with  the 
unsuspecting  council,  they  came  by  a  full  knowl- 
edge of  all  its  secret  and  carefully  laid  plans. 

There  was  one  wily  old  chief,  however,  who 
began  to  cast  a  shrewd  eye  upon  the  visitors, 
which  annoyed  them  and  caused  them  to  debate 
his  rather  disturbing  scrutiny  in  secret. 

The  old  chief  soon  made  known  his  suspicions 
by  an  attempt  to  tomahawk  the  pair,  whereupon 
they  shot  him,  and  the  game  being  now  up  they 
succeeded  after  a  desperate  struggle  in  making 
their  escape  on  two  horses  which  the  Indians 
had  previously  stolen  from  the  settlers. 

Then  there  followed  such  a  journey  as  never 
before  or  since  has  been  known  to  those  return- 
ing homeward  from  a  masquerade  party.  Hotly 
pursued,  the  two  adventurers  sped  through  the 
forest.  Wetzel's  horse  fell  dead  and  they  took 
turns  in  riding  the  other  horse  until  the  poor 
beast  also  sank  exhausted,  and  the  men  were 
forced  to  run  for  their  lives.  They  reached  a 
camp  of  friendly  Indians  who  knew  them,  and 
here  they  succeeded  in  procuring  one  horse. 

On  they  went,  taking  turns  as  before,  and  per- 
plexing and  confounding  their  infuriated  pur- 
suers by  every  trick  known  to  experienced  scouts 
and  rangers. 


166  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

At  last  they  came  to  the  Ohio  Kiver.  The 
water  was  icy  cold,  for  the  season  was  winter, 
but  they  forced  their  horse  in  and  managed  to 
cross  the  torrent,  Brady  riding  on  the  beast's 
back  while  Wetzel  clung  tenaciously  to  its  tail. 
And  surely  the  famous  crossing  of  the  Delaware 
by  Washington  was  no  more  picturesque  than 
the  crossing  of  the  Ohio  by  this  hapless  pair 
with  the  disguising  war  paint  dribbling  from 
their  faces  in  many-colored  drops,  their  fine 
feathers  bedraggled,  and  the  weary  form  of 
Wetzel  trailing  after  the  wretched  horse  like 
the  tail  of  a  comet! 

Arrived  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  Brady 
discovered  that  his  comrade  was  frozen  almost 
stiff,  and  again  his  resourceful  mind  devised  a 
novel  expedient.  Killing  the  horse,  he  disem- 
boweled it  and  placed  the  frozen  body  of  his 
companion  within  the  warm  and  cosy  interior! 

He  did  not  wish  to  kindle  a  fire  for  fear  of 
the  Indians  but  this  he  presently  resolved  to  do, 
and  in  its  warmth  he  chafed  and  rubbed  the 
limbs  and  arms  of  his  companion  until  the  cir- 
culation was  re-established,  and  they  were  able 
to  pursue  their  journey,  unmolested,  back  to  the 
settlements. 

They  had  spoiled  the  game  for  the  Indians, 
who,  their  plans  being  known,  gave  up  the  con- 
spiracy. 

In  those  days  there  lived  in  Pennsylvania  two 


SAMUEL   BRADY,    BANGER         167 

kindred  spirits  named  Benington  and  Briggs, 
who  gravitated  to  Brady  on  the  principle  that 
birds  of  a  feather  flock  together.  The  three 
formed  a  daring  trio,  and  their  ranging  ex- 
ploits sometimes  verged  npon  the  incredible. 

Upon  one  of  their  scouting  expeditions  along 
the  Pennsylvania  frontier  they  came  npon  a 
ruined  cabin  with  all  the  accompanying  signs 
of  Indian  vandalism.  While  they  were  investi- 
gating the  devastated  scene  a  horseman  rode  up 
whom  Brady  recognized  as  a  settler  named  Gray, 
the  owner  of  the  cabin,  and  together  the  four 
inspected  the  pathetic  remains  of  what  had,  but 
a  few  hours  before,  been  Mr.  Gray's  home. 

No  sign  of  his  wife  or  her  sister  or  the  set- 
tler's seven  children  could  be  seen. 

Grim  with  the  spirit  of  vengeance,  Gray  re- 
solved to  rescue  his  people  and  visit  punishment 
upon  their  captors,  and  the  three  scouts  were 
nothing  loath  to  accompany  him. 

Brady  soon  succeeded  in  picking  up  the  trail, 
and  before  nightfall  they  were  able,  from  a  van- 
tage point,  to  discover  thirteen  savages  with 
their  nine  captives,  encamped  in  the  very  spot 
where  Brady  had  suspected  they  would  pause 
for  the  night. 

After  a  while  the  weary  savages  and  their 
captives  fell  asleep  and  the  four  trailers  stole 
down  upon  them.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
these   four   resolute  men,  led  by  Brady,   killed 


168  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

every  single  Indian  of  the  party,  nine  of  them 
as  they  slept,  the  others  rinding  only  death  await- 
ing them  as  they  awoke. 

The  women  and  children  were  rescued  and 
the  party  made  a  safe  journey  to  the  nearest 
settlement. 

The  scene  of  this  extraordinary  rescue  was 
near  a  spring  which  to  this  day  is  known  as 
Bloody  Spring  in  memory  of  the  astonishing 
exploit  of  Scout  Brady  and  his  friends. 

On  another  occasion  Brady  was  returning 
from  an  Indian  community  where  he  had  se- 
cretly made  a  map  of  the  locality  and  learned 
many  of  the  secrets  of  the  savages,  when  he 
saw  an  Indian  on  horseback  carrying  a  white 
woman.  Alongside  them  trotted  two  white  chil- 
dren. Brady  still  w^ore  his  Indian  disguise. 
Eaising  his  rifle,  he  shot  a  bullet  through  the 
Indian's  heart,  leaving  the  captive  woman  un- 
injured and  amazed  at  one  Indian's  thus  shoot- 
ing another,  until,  rushing  forward,  he  cried: 

" Don't  you  know  me?    I  am  Sam  Brady." 

The  woman  wras  Jenny  Stripes,  wife  of  a  set- 
tler whom  Brady  knew  well. 

Her  captor  had  left  his  companions,  among 
whom  was  a  little  dog  belonging  to  Mrs.  Stripes. 
This  dog  trailed  his  mistress  and  the  Indians 
followed.  As  the  dog  came  running  toward  them 
Brady  tomahawked  it,  for  he  had  but  two  loads 
left  in  his  rifle  and  feared  that  he  might  need 


SAMUEL   BRADY,    RANGER         169 

them  for  more  important  game.  Thus  he  con- 
founded the  pursuers  and  succeeded  in  bringing 
Mrs.  Stripes  and  her  weary  and  frightened  chil- 
dren to  Fort  Pitt. 

Resourcefulness  and  presence  of  mind,  which 
are  much  advertised  to-day  as  desirable  scout 
qualities,  were  possessed  by  Sam  Brady  in  su- 
perlative degree.  There  was  almost  a  touch  of 
sleight-of-hand  about  his  many  escapes  and  dar- 
ing exploits. 

On  one  occasion,  when  he  had  been  bound  hand 
and  foot,  he  rolled  to  a  fire,  burned  his  thongs 
and  got  away.  At  another  time  he  came  upon 
two  Indians,  one  standing  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  other  picking  bark  from  a  tree.  Brady  had 
but  one  load  in  his  rifle.  He  shot  the  Indian 
who  stood  on  the  ground  and  the  one  above 
tumbled  to  the  earth,  at  his  mercy. 

Though  a  crack  shot  and  of  matchless  courage, 
he  appears  always  to  have  used  his  brain  before 
he  used  his  rifle,  and  the  faculty  was  his  to  do 
quick  thinking  in  a  predicament. 

Indeed,  this  is  the  only  explanation  of  his 
many  hair  's-breadth  escapes.  No  amount  of 
mere  physical  prowess  could  have  carried  him 
through  his  amazing  experiences  on  the  frontier 
to  the  day  when  he  died  peacefully  in  his  humble 
home.  He  was  not  only  a  great  scout,  but  a  very 
original  and  ingenious  one,  and  he  might,  in- 
deed, serve  better  than  others  more  famous  as 


170  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

a  scout  model.  It  is  said  that  he  was  the  origi- 
nal of  Cooper's  famous  character  of  Leather 
Stocking. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  he  was  not  only  a  good 
scout,  but  a  very  good  man,  a  patriot  through 
and  through,  the  defender  and  protector  and  res- 
cuer of  women  and  children,  the  stalwart  and 
fearless  guardian  of  a  lonely  frontier,  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  reflect  that  the  latter  part  of  his 
useful  and  splendid  life  was  spent  in  the  quiet 
shelter  of  his  own  home  where  children,  whom 
he  loved,  were  wont  to  cluster  about  him  and 
listen  to  the  blood-curdling  tales  of  his  early 
adventures. 


LEWIS   AND    CLAEK 

How  they  were  the  first  to  cross  the  continent  and  the  story 
of  their  famous  expedition. 

There  are  scouts  and  scouts,  and  some  of  them 
have  been  pre-eminent  for  one  thing  and  some 
for  another.  In  the  case  of  some  their  scouting 
— which  means,  briefly,  going  ahead  and  explor- 
ing— has  been  incidental  to  their  trapping  and 
hunting;  while  in  the  case  of  others  it  has  been 
incidental  to  their  pursuit  of  Indians,  or  their 
quest  of  a  home. 

Most  of  our  scouts  have  been  scouts  by  cir- 
cumstance rather  than  by  profession.  That  is 
to  say,  they  did  not  go  into  new  territory  simply 
to  observe  and  get  information,  though  the  inci- 
dental results  of  their  activities  entitle  them  to 
be  called  scouts. 

Lewis  and  Clark,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
typical  scouts — professional  scouts,  if  you  will. 
They  were,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  hired  for 
that  purpose.  This  does  not  dim  the  glamor  of 
romance  which  we  are  wont  to  see  about  them. 
They  performed  one  of  the  greatest  scouting  ex- 
ploits in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  they  saved 
time  and  did  it  the  better,  because  they  followed 

171 


172  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

a  program  and  did  just  exactly  what  they  set 
out  to  do. 

Perhaps  they  were  not  the  greatest  scouts,  but 
they  were  certainly  typical  scouts. 

We  have  tried  to  consider  each  famous  scout 
individually,  giving  each  one,  so  to  speak,  his  day 
in  court.  Thus  we  have  ruthlessly  torn  General 
Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  apart,  notwithstand- 
ing their  many  adventures  together,  for  we  could 
not  permit  the  redoubtable  Santa  Fe  trailer  to 
play  second  riddle  to  anyone. 

But  we  cannot  separate  Lewis  and  Clark. 
They  are  bound  together  by  their  great  exploit, 
and  seem  to  have  no  story  worth  the  telling 
either  before  or  after  that  one  adventurous  ex- 
pedition. 

So  let  us  follow  the  trail  of  Lewis  and  Clark, 
according  equal  credit  to  both,  as  indeed  they 
accorded  equal  credit  to  each  other.  They  were 
as  inseparable  as  those  renowned  heroes,  Twee- 
dledum and  Tweedledee,  and  they  got  along  to- 
gether a  great  deal  better! 

As  every  boy  knows,  the  vast  tract  of  land 
formerly  known  as  Louisiana  was  sold  by  the 
great  Napoleon  to  the  United  States  in  1803. 
The  price  which  our  country  paid  for  this  enor- 
mous territory  was  fifteen  million  dollars,  and 
Napoleon  was  very  glad  to  get  the  money,  for 
he  needed  it  in  his  imperial  business. 

Eoughly  speaking,  Louisiana  then  comprised 


CAPT.     MERIWEATHER     LEWIS 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  173 

all  the  land  west  of  the  Mississippi,  bounded  on 
the  north  by  the  British  possessions,  and  on  the 
south  by  those  of  Spain.  In  other  words,  it 
covered  the  region  which  is  now  occupied  by  the 
states  of  Louisiana,  Arkansas,  Missouri,  Kan- 
sas, Iowa,  Nebraska,  South  and  North  Dakota, 
"Wyoming,  Montana,  and  parts  of  Idaho  and 
Colorado. 

In  all  this  vast  territory  there  were  not  a 
hundred  thousand  white  persons.  Many  extrav- 
agant and  absurd  tales  were  circulated  about  the 
region  and  were  believed.  Stories  of  strange 
animals,  quite  unknown  to  zoologists,  were  ban- 
died about;  savages,  more  primitive  and  fero- 
cious than  any  before  known,  were  described  as 
roaming  the  vast  northwestern  wilderness,  and 
even  President  Jefferson  himself  believed  many 
of  these  tales. 

When  he  selected  Meriwether  Lewis  to  lead 
the  memorable  expedition  across  the  country  he 
said  to  him,  among  other  things,  "Our  Consuls, 
Thomas  Hewes  at  Batavia  in  Java,  William  Bu- 
chanan in  the  Isles  of  France  and  Bourbon,  and 
John  Elmslie  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  will 
be  able  to  supply  your  necessities  by  drafts  on 
us."  It  is  perfectly  evident  that  President  Jef- 
ferson had  grave  misgivings  as  to  the  outcome 
of  the  expedition  and  as  to  where  his  transcon- 
tinental explorers  would  eventually  arrive. 

When  the  purchase  of  this  vast  territory  was 


174  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

completed  President  Jefferson  resolved  that  it 
should  be  explored,  and  he  proposed  to  the  Con- 
gress then  in  session  that  an  expedition  should 
be  formed  for  that  purpose.  He  had  as  his 
private  secretary  this  young  man,  Meriwether 
Lewis,  who  had  risen  to  the  rank  of  captain  in 
the  army,  and  in  suggesting  him  as  a  suitable 
leader  of  the  proposed  party,  he  enumerated 
some  of  the  young  man's  qualifications  for  the 
hazardous  mission,  incidentally  furnishing  about 
the  best  description  of  an  all-around  scout  which 
we  have  ever  heard: 

".  .  .  of  courage  undaunted;  possessing  a 
firmness  and  perseverance  of  purpose  which 
nothing  but  impossibilities  could  divert  from  its 
direction;  careful  as  a  father  of  those  committed 
to  his  charge,  yet  steady  in  the  maintenance  of 
order  and  discipline;  intimate  with  the  Indian 
character,  customs  and  principles;  habituated  to 
the  hunting  life;  guarded  by  exact  observation 
of  the  vegetable  and  animal  life  of  his  own  coun- 
try, against  losing  time  in  the  description  of 
objects  already  possessed;  honest,  disinterested, 
liberal,  and  of  sound  understanding,  and  a  fidel- 
ity to  truth  so  scrupulous  that  whatever  he 
should  report  would  be  as  certain  as  if  seen 
by  ourselves.  With  all  these  qualifications,  as 
if  selected  and  implanted  by  nature  in  one  body 
for  this  express  purpose,  I  could  have  no  hesi- 
tation in  confiding  the  enterprise  to  him." 


LEWIS   AND   CLARK  175 

We  should  think  not!  Indeed,  it  leaves  little 
to  be  told  of  Meriwether  Lewis  except  that  he 
was  born  in  Virginia  in  1774,  in  the  town  of 
Charlottesville. 

Lewis  selected  as  his  assistant  and  to  lead  the 
party  in  the  event  of  mishap  to  himself,  William 
Clark,  who  was  four  years  older  than  himself 
and  who,  we  are  told,  was  "almost  a  duplicate 
of  Lewis  in  all  his  qualities."  Clark  was  like- 
wise a  Virginian  by  birth. 

Both  of  these  young  men  held  the  rank  of 
captain  and  in  the  whole  course  of  the  expedi- 
tion's progress  to  the  Pacific  Coast  and  back 
they  exercised  equal  authority  without  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  rift  in  the  affectionate  friendship 
which  existed  between  them.  This  is  not  the 
least  remarkable  feature  of  that  remarkable 
journey. 

As  finally  organized,  the  famous  expedition 
was  made  up  of  these  two  captains  and  twenty- 
seven  men.  Nine  hailed  from  Kentucky  and 
were  accustomed  to  frontier  life;  fourteen  were 
soldiers  of  the  United  States  Army;  two  were 
French  voyageurs,  or  watermen  (one  of  whom 
understood  the  Indian  language  and  was  to  act 
as  interpreter) ;  one  was  a  hunter,  and  the  other 
a  negro  servant  of  Captain  Clark,  who,  in  his 
appropriate  character  of  minstrel  and  comedian, 
greatly  enlivened  the  party  and  became  quite 
a  character  among  them.     He  was  viewed  with 


176  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

consternation  by  the  savages  of  the  Far  West, 
who  had  never  before  seen  a  black  man,  nor  a 
white  man  either,  for  the  matter  of  that.  In 
all  their  long  wanderings  only  one  of  the  party 
lost  his  life. 

In  addition  to  these  men  a  small  additional 
party  of  voyagenrs  and  soldiers  was  to  accom- 
pany the  expedition  as  far  as  the  country  of  the 
Mandan  Indians  in  the  region  which  is  now 
North  Dakota,  for  it  was  believed  that  hostile 
attacks  were  more  likely  to  be  made  east  of  that 
point  than  west  of  it. 

The  purpose  of  the  expedition  was  very  clearly 
defined.  The  men  were,  if  possible,  to  find  a 
waterway  across  the  continent.  They  were  to 
explore  the  country  thoroughly  as  far  west  as 
they  could  get.  They  were  to  procure  informa- 
tion which  would  be  helpful  in  making  maps. 
They  were  to  observe  the  Indians,  particularly 
their  manners,  customs,  government,  diseases, 
etc.;  they  were  to  observe  the  wild  life,  the 
flowers  and  minerals,  and  indeed  wrere  to  report 
on  anything  and  everything  which  might  be  of 
any  service  in  the  future  settlement  and  devel- 
opment of  the  country. 

On  May  14th,  1804,  the  expedition  left  the  neigh- 
borhood of  St.  Louis  and  started  up  the  Mis- 
souri Eiver,  in  three  boats.  The  largest  of  these 
was  fifty  feet  long,  and  was  equipped  with  sail 
and  oars  and  mounted  a  small  gun.    The  others 


GEN.    WILLIAM     CLARK 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  177 

were  much  smaller  and  of  rough  construction. 
The  boats  were  to  be  used  as  far  as  the  river 
would  permit. 

Four  days  later  they  reached  the  last  white 
settlement  on  the  river,  a  little  village  called 
La  Charrette,  consisting  of  a  dozen  or  so  cabins. 
In  one  of  these  lived  Daniel  Boone,  the  famous 
pioneer  of  Kentucky,  then  seventy  years  of  age. 

Leaving  La  Charrette,  they  pursued  their  way 
through  an  unknown  country,  following  the  tor- 
tuous windings  of  the  great  river.  After  jour- 
neying for  a  few  days  they  came  upon  a  raft 
carrying  a  hunter  and  trapper  named  Dorian, 
who  had  lived  among  the  Sioux  Indians  for  many 
years,  and  on  hearing  of  their  purpose  he  gladly 
agreed  to  accompany  them. 

After  an  inland  voyage  of  more  than  five 
months,  during  which  time  they  held  friendly 
intercourse  with  many  Indian  tribes,  they  came 
to  the  Mandan  villages  and,  having  found  a  suit- 
able spot,  they  proceeded  to  fell  trees  and  make 
preparations  for  their  winter  camp,  which  they 
called  Fort  Mandan.  This  was  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  present  city  of  Bismarck. 

They  found  the  Mandans  hospitable  and 
friendly,  and  the  winter  spent  among  them 
passed  pleasantly.  Corn  and  other  supplies 
were  bought  from  the  red  men  and  the  hunters 
of  the  party  found  game  plentiful. 

Early  in  April  they  broke  camp,  and  having 


178  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

sent  back  the  extra  members  who  had  been  de- 
tailed to  accompany  them  that  far,  proceeded 
up  the  tortuous  river. 

Eight  days  later  they  passed  a  place  which 
they  named  Chaboneau  Creek,  after  one  of  the 
French  voyageurs,  who  had  previously  encamped 
there.  "Beyond  this,"  the  famous  journal  of 
the  expedition  reads,  "no  white  man  has  ever 
been,  but  two  Frenchmen." 

All  through  this  region  they  saw  large  num- 
bers of  fallen  trees  which  had  been  cut  down 
by  beavers,  and  there  were  multitudes  of  these 
industrious  little  animals  which  are  now  so 
scarce.  They  encountered  also  great  herds  of 
buffalo  and  innumerable  grizzly  bears.  These 
latter  were  very  ferocious. 

On  one  occasion,  six  of  the  men,  all  good  hunt- 
ers, simultaneously  attacked  one  of  these  monsters 
and,  though  all  the  bullets  struck  the  beast,  such 
was  its  amazing  vitality  that  some  of  the  at- 
tackers were  forced  to  flee  in  a  canoe  while  the 
others  concealed  themselves  and  kept  up  a  con- 
tinual fire.  With  every  shot  which  took  effect 
the  beast  became  only  the  more  enraged,  seem- 
ing to  gain  in  strength  under  the  fusillade  of 
shot.  At  length,  just  as  the  hunters  had  given 
up  in  despair,  and  were  scrambling  down  a  pre- 
cipitous bank  to  save  their  lives,  one  of  them 
turned  and  shot  the  animal  between  the  eyes, 
which  put  an  end  to  his  career.     He  had  been 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  179 

able  to  pursue  them  with  eight  bullets  in  his 
body! 

On  the  26th  of  May,  Captain  Lewis,  standing 
upon  a  hilltop,  beheld,  about  fifty  miles  distant 
as  he  thought,  a  range  of  lofty  peaks  which  he 
knew  to  be  the  Kooky  Mountains.  Somewhere 
there,  he  felt  sure,  this  mighty,  sinuous  stream 
which  they  were  following  had  its  source,  and 
beyond,  on  the  westerly  slopes,  he  hoped  to  find 
the  trickling  headwaters  of  the  stream  or  streams 
which  should  carry  them,  or  at  least  guide  them, 
through  the  mysterious  unknown  country,  on  to 
the  Pacific. 

How  the  hearts  of  all  those  bold  adventurers 
must  have  thrilled  as  they  gazed  upon  the  gray 
peaks;  and  we  may  believe  that  even  in  their 
stout  resolve  they  were  not  free  from  misgiv- 
ings at  thought  of  the  obstacles  which  those  un- 
known mountains  might  present  to  their  prog- 
ress. Shortly,  they  knew,  they  would  have  to 
abandon  their  boats  and  press  on  afoot  in  quest 
of  a  pass  into  the  strange  land  far  to  the  west- 
ward. 

The  river  was  still  more  than  one  hundred 
yards  wide  and  they  continued  their  journey 
without  difficulty.  As  they  approached  the  moun- 
tains, game  became  more  plentiful  and  they  lived 
on  the  fat  of  the  land. 

They  were  now  passing  through  a  region  rich 
in  memorials  of  ancient  life,  and  every  mile  they 


180  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

traversed  revealed  wonders  of  animal  and  floral 
life  of  which  they  had  never  dreamed. 

This  was  the  immemorial  home  and  hunting- 
ground  of  the  Minitarees.  As  they  toiled  np 
the  narrowing  stream  they  came  at  length  to  a 
point  where  it  was  difficult  to  determine  which 
of  two  branches  to  take,  but  they  decided  that 
the  southern  branch  was  the  true  Missouri,  and 
they  followed  it,  naming  the  northern  branch 
Maria's  Eiver,  after  an  old  sweetheart  of  Cap- 
tain Clark's. 

This  was  the  region  which  is  now  the  State 
of  Montana.  Presently  they  came  to  the  great 
falls  of  the  Missouri,  where  they  paused  to  build 
canoes,  transporting  them  above  the  falls  by 
means  of  a  rough  wagon  which  they  made.  A 
perfectly  round  cottonwood  tree  sawed  into  thin 
sections  supplied  the  wheels. 

Here,  according  to  the  famous  journal  of  the 
expedition,  strange,  booming  sounds  were  heard 
continually.  These  are  still  heard  by  travelers 
in  that  wild,  lonely  region,  and  their  cause  has 
never  been  determined. 

They  were  now  within  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
Eockies,  pushing  through  an  untrodden  wilder- 
ness, such  as  is  surpassed  nowhere  in  the  world. 

As  they  journeyed  on  they  came  to  three  forks 
and  they  were  in  a  quandary  as  before  as  to 
which  stream  to  follow.  They  wished,  of  course, 
to  pursue  the  one  which  would  bring  them  to  that 


LEWIS   AND    CLAKK  181 

part  of  the  mountains  nearest  to  the  source  of 
some  westerly  flowing  river. 

"Whether  by  reason  of  their  skill  in  scoutcraft 
or  by  sheer  good  luck,  they  chose  the  right  one 
(which  they  named  Jefferson  River)  and  follow- 
ing it  up  to  its  source  they  came  at  last  to  a  tiny 
trickle,  the  infinitesimal  beginning  of  the  mighty 
Missouri  River  whose  windings  they  had  followed 
through  the  unexplored  wilderness  which  is  now 
five  states. 

This  spot  is  known  as  Lemhi  Pass,  and  it  was 
upon  the  12th  of  August,  1805,  that  Captain 
Lewis,  traveling  a  little  in  advance  of  the  others, 
stood  there  realizing  (may  we  not  assume,  with 
a  thrill  of  pride  and  satisfaction?)  that  he  was 
at  last  near  to  the- backbone  of  the  continent. 

Keeping  still  ahead  of  his  companions,  Captain 
Lewis  pressed  on  through  the  rocky  intricacies 
of  those  mighty  heights  till  he  came  to  another 
little  trickle  which  flowed  westward  and  which 
he  believed  must  bear  its  crystal  contribution 
down  through  rock  and  cavern  to  swell  the  flood 
of  the  Columbia  as  it  swept  on  to  the  Pacific! 

So  far  as  he  knew,  no  white  man  had  ever 
before  trodden  these  dim  recesses,  and  we  may 
fancy  the  pride  and  satisfaction  of  the  intrepid 
scout  as  he  gazed  upon  that  tiny  brooklet  among 
the  rocks  which  would  show  the  way,  however 
difficult  and  baffling,  to  the  shores  of  the  great 
ocean. 


182  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Still  keeping  ahead  of  the  main  party,  he  came 
upon  a  band  of  Shoshone  Indians  who  gazed  at 
him  in  consternation,  for  they  had  never  before 
seen  a  white  man  and  he  was  as  much  a  marvel 
to  them  as  Columbus  had  been  to  the  natives  of 
San  Salvador. 

When  their  astonishment  had  somewhat  sub- 
sided, Captain  Lewis  was  able,  after  a  fashion, 
to  hold  intercourse  with  them  and  he  found  them 
inclined  to  be  peaceable  and  friendly.  He  bor- 
rowed horses  from  them  and  persuaded  the  chief 
to  accompany  him  back  to  the  main  party  where 
a  further  surprise  awaited  the  warrior.  For  on 
meeting  with  them  who  should  he  discover  but 
Sacajawea,  his  own  long  lost  sister,  who  had 
come  along  as  the  wife  of  one  of  the  French 
voyageurs.  She  had,  it  seemed,  been  stolen  by 
the  Minatarees  while  a  child  and  her  people  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  her  again. 

Pausing  at  the  camp  of  these  friendly  Indians, 
the  party  waited  while  Captain  Clark  explored 
one  of  the  streams  and  the  westerly  flowing 
Salmon  Eiver  of  which  it  was  a  tributary. 

He  found,  as  the  Indians  had  told  him,  that 
the  country  below  in  this  direction  was  too  rough 
for  travel,  so,  taking  several  of  the  Shoshones 
for  guides,  they  descended  in  another  direction 
until  they  reached  the  head  of  Bitter  Root  River. 

This  they  followed  through  the  wild  Rocky 
Mountain   country  until  it   brought   them  to   a 


oo 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  18 

stream  which  they  called  Lolo  Creek  and  here 
they  made  a  camp,  calling  it  Travelers'  Rest. 

Resuming  their  journey  through  the  passes  of 
the  Bitter  Root  Range  they  followed  Lolo  Creek 
to  a  point  which  they  called  Lolo  Pass  and  came 
at  length  in  their  tortuous  wanderings  to  a  place 
in  the  mountains  from  which  the  natives  told 
them  how  they  might  descend  in  canoes. 

They  had,  of  course,  abandoned  even  these  as 
they  ascended  and  the  streams  became  less  navi- 
gable, so  they  made  camp  again  in  order  to  rest 
and  construct  enough  rough  craft  to  proceed  by 
water. 

Here  they  remained  from  September  26th  to 
October  7th,  1805,  making  preparations  and  con- 
structing the  canoes  for  the  last  stage  of  their 
long  journey.  As  usual,  they  found  the  natives 
greatly  interested  In  them,  obliging  and  friendly. 
Here  also  they  secured  provisions,  which  had  of 
late  been  alarmingly  low. 

Resuming  their  journey  on  October  7th,  they 
descended  in  their  canoes  till  they  came  to  Snake 
River,  or,  as  they  called  it,  Lewis  River,  in 
honor  of  their  leader.  This  stream  broadened 
as  it  descended  until  presently  they  were  sailing 
down  the  wide  bosom  of  a  noble  river,  which 
wound  its  way  through  deep  ravines.  Above 
them  on  either  hand  rose  precipitous  rocky 
heights  between  which  the  hurrying  stream  was 
at  times  churned  into  perilous  rapids. 


184  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Following  the  erratic  wanderings  and  braving 
the  dangers  of  the  river,  they  reached  the  point 
where  it  separates  the  present  States  of  Oregon 
and  Idaho,  and  presently  they  were  sailing  down 
the  wide  expanse  of  the  lordly  Columbia,  their 
gaze  enthralled  by  the  magnificent  prospect  of 
green  and  lofty  mountains  which  rolled  away 
into  the  misty  distance  on  either  hand. 

On  November  7th,  they  had  their  first  glimpse 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  before  that  memorable 
day  was  over  the  welcome  sound  of  its  incessant 
breakers  reached  the  ears  of  the  weary  and 
triumphant  explorers. 

Their  long  journey  was  over,  their  mission 
accomplished.  Not  a  serious  mishap  had  there 
been.    It  was  a  triumph  without  alloy. 

A  little  above  the  mouth  of  the  great  Columbia 
River,  at  a  spot  which  they  called  Netul,  they 
made  their  camp.  Here,  in  a  dim  grove  of 
stately  pines,  they  built  rough  cabins  and  being 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Clatsop  Indians  they 
named  their  little  makeshift  settlement  after  that 
friendly  tribe. 

They  lived  now  chiefly  on  fish  and  elks'  meat, 
nd  though  their  fare  grew  monotonous  as  the 
winter  months  wore  away,  and  even  though  star- 
vation sometimes  threatened,  the  contemplation 
of  their  successful  expedition  buoyed  them  up 
and  gave  them  strength  and  spirit  for  the  tedious 
journey  homeward. 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  185 

Toward  the  end  of  March,  1806,  after  a  winter 
which,  despite  its  hardships  and  privations,  was 
by  no  means  unpleasant,  they  abandoned  their 
little  home  among  the  pines  and  set  forth  again 
up  the  Columbia  toward  the  mountains. 

They  had  traded  off  all  their  glass  beads  and 
miscellaneous  gewgaws  to  the  Indians  and  they 
bad  nothing  wherewith  to  buy  necessaries  and 
safe  conduct  home  save  only  the  friendship  which 
their  justice  and  honesty  had  won  them  among 
the  Indian  tribes  through  which  they  must  again 

But  this  good-will  served  them  in  good  stead. 
Moreover,  Lewis  and  Clark  had  acquired  the 
reputation  of  famous  doctors,  and  on  their  jour- 
ney homeward  they  found  lines  of  patients  wait- 
ing for  them  such  as  would  swell  the  pride  of 
the  most  arrogant  specialist  of  to-day.  They 
made  "eye  water"  and  traded  it  for  horses, 
dogs,  fish  and  game. 

Their  clothing  had  gone  in  tatters  and  they 
were  clad  wholly  in  skins. 

In  good  time  they  crossed  the  mountains  again, 
and  after  some  adventures  with  the  Blackfoot 
Indians,  they  pressed  their  way  eastward  and 
came  at  length  to  their  old  camp  among  the 
Mandans  in  Dakota. 

They  reached  St.  Louis  on  September  23rd, 
1806,  after  an  absence  of  two  years  and  four 
months.      Their  primitive  costumes  and  tanned 


186  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

faces  "were  viewed  with  amazement  by  those  who 
had  never  expected  to  see  them  again. 

In  acknowledgment  of  their  exploit  and  its 
great  value  to  the  young  nation,  Lewis  was  made 
Governor  of  Louisiana  and  Clark  was  raised  to 
Militia  General  of  the  same  vast  area  and  also 
appointed  Indian  agent  for  the  many  tribes 
whose  acquaintance  he  had  made.  The  other 
members  of  the  expedition  were  given  double  pay 
and  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  land  each. 

Meriwether  Lewis  died  in  September,  1809, 
while  on  a  journey  to  Washington  upon  official 
business.  He  was  found  dead  in  a  little  inn  in 
Tennessee  where  he  stopped,  but  whether  he 
killed  himself  or  was  murdered  no  one  knows. 

In  1813,  Clark  was  appointed  Governor  of 
Missouri  and  he  held  that  post  until  the  territory 
became  a  state.  In  1822  he  was  made  Superin- 
tendent of  Indian  Affairs,  which  office  he  held 
until  his  death  in  1838. 

The  Lewis  and  Clark  Expedition  was  unique 
in  many  ways.  For  one  thing,  its  two  leaders 
shared  the  authority  of  leadership  without  a  sug- 
gestion of  jealousy  or  discord.  For  another 
thing,  although  they  encountered  many  Indian 
tribes,  they  had  no  serious  trouble  with  the  red 
men,  although  there  were,  of  course,  instances 
of  individual  theft  and  treachery,  and  a  varying 
measure  of  hospitality  shown  them  in  their  ardu- 
ous progress  westward. 


LEWIS   AND    CLARK  187 

To  be  sure,  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest, 
having  never  before  seen  white  men,  had  not 
been  swindled  and  oppressed,  and  cherished  no 
grudge  against  these  strange  creatures  whom 
they  now  saw  for  the  first  time.  Yet  this  does 
not  fully  explain  the  refreshing  absence  of  scrim- 
mages and  massacres  in  that  long  journey  of 
two  years  and  doubtless  much  credit  must  be 
accorded  to  the  tact  and  kindness   of  the  two 

leaders. 

That  only  one  man  lost  his  life  in  all  that  two 
years  of  journeying  and  camping  in  an  unknown 
country  seems  scarcely  credible,  but  such  was  the 
fact.  We  might  have  supposed  that  the  Rocky 
Mountains   alone   would  have   claimed   at   least 

one  victim. 

The  Lewis  and  Clark  Expedition  was  one  of 
the  most  ambitious  and  venturesome  ever  under- 
taken in  our  country,  and  it  was  out  and  away 
the  most  successful.  Meriwether  Lewis  and  Will- 
iam Clark  must  have  possessed  indeed  all  of 
the  qualities  which  the  astute  Thomas  Jefferson 
accorded  to  his  young  secretary.  It  seems  evi- 
dent that  that  great  and  true  democrat  could  do 
other  things  besides  write  the  Declaration  of 
Independence. 

He  knew  a  good  scout  when  he  saw  one. 


ZEBULON    MONTGOMERY    PIKE 

How  he  explored  the  Mississippi  and  later  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains; how  he  searched  for  the  Red  River  and  didn't 
find  it;  also  how  the  Spaniards  found  him  and  what 
they  did  with  him;  together  with  other  particulars  of 
his  adventures  in  the  Southwest. 

Near  the  central  part  of  Colorado  there  rises 
above  the  surrounding  rock-ribbed  heights  a 
towering  mountain  which  is  famous  throughout 
the  world  as  Pike's  Peak.  Fourteen  thousand 
and  one  hundred  feet  -above  sea-level  it  rears  its 
mighty  head  and  from  that  rocky,  woodless 
summit,  miles  upon  miles  of  trackless  desert  can 
be  seen  to  the  eastward,  while  on  the  west  and 
north  and  south  Nature  may  be  viewed  in  all 
her  magnificent  disorder,  in  a  thousand  canons, 
valleys  and  gray  chaotic  heights,  fading  away 
in  the  enveloping  mist  which  shrouds  the  distant 
wilderness. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  man  whose  name 
this  majestic  giant  of  the  Rockies  bears  never 
climbed  to  its  summit  nor  even  approached  very 
near  to  its  wild  and  rugged  base. 

But  in  the  immediate  country  which  it  over- 
looks he  suffered  as  acutely  as  man  may  suffer 
at  the  hands  of  untamed  nature.    His  name  was 

188 


ZEBULON    MONTGOMERY    PIKE     189 

Zebulon  Montgomery  Pike  and  he  was  a  brave 
young  soldier  and  a  good  scout.  He  was  born 
in  the  State  of  New  Jersey  in  1779,  and  in  1799 
he  entered  the  army,  becoming  a  captain  in  1806. 

"When  the  vast  Louisiana  territory  was  pur- 
chased by  the  United  States,  President  Jeffer- 
son, as  we  know,  was  anxious  that  it  should  be 
thoroughly  explored  in  order  that  its  character 
might  be  made  known  to  our  people. 

For  this  momentous  task  of  scouting  and  ex- 
ploring he  selected  Lewis  and  Clark  to  penetrate 
the  west  and  if  possible  to  press  on  to  the  Pacific. 

But  there  were  other  things  which  that  great 
president  wished  to  determine  in  connection  with 
the  acquisition  of  this  vast  area,  and  chief  among 
them  was  the  source  of  the  Mississippi.  So,  while 
Lewis  and  Clark  were  still  upon  their  perilous 
errand,  President  Jefferson  selected  young 
Zebulon  Pike  to  ascend  the  Father  of  Waters, 
ascertain  all  that  he  could  of  its  source,  and  at 
the  same  time  make  certain  observations  along 
the  northern  boundary  of  the  newly  acquired 
land. 

His  choice  of  young  Pike  for  this  mission,  like 
his  choice  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  was  a  particu- 
larly happy — or  shall  we  say,  shrewd — one? 
Pike  was  nothing  if  not  courageous,  resourceful 
and  adventurous. 

With  a  company  of  twenty  men  he  set  forth 
from  St.  Louis  in  August,  1805,  in  a  rough  boat 


190  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

about  seventy  feet  long  and  with  provisions  for 
four  months. 

His  chief  object  was  to  explore  the  Mississippi 
to  its  tiniest  beginning.  The  little  party  as- 
cended the  river,  pausing  to  construct  new  boats 
and  before  they  had  approached  near  to  the 
headwaters  Pike  was  the  proud  commander  of 
a  sumptuous  fleet  of  four  small  craft  which  he 
contemplated  with  much  satisfaction. 

"Our  four  boats  under  full  sail,"  he  said, 
"their  flags  streaming  before  the  wind,  were 
altogether  a  prospect  so  variegated  and  roman- 
tic that  a  man  may  scarce  expect  to-  enjoy  such 
a  one  but  twice  or  thrice  in  the  course  of  his 
life!" 

They  formed  a  happy  little  scouting  party, 
we  may  assume,  having  "violins  and  other  music 
on  board,"  and  taking  great  pride  in  their  little 
flotilla. 

With  music  playing  they  sailed  gaily  across 
Lake  Pepin,  in  the  present  State  of  Minnesota, 
and  were  soon  in  the  region  which  Jonathan 
Carver  was  supposed  to  have  traveled  in  1766. 

Hereabouts  Pike  encountered  agents  and  trap- 
pers of  the  British  Fur  Companies,  whom  he 
informed  of  the  Louisiana  Purchase  and  re- 
quested that  they  withdraw  from  the  country. 

Spending  the  winter  in  that  northern  wilder- 
ness, Pike  explored  the  headwaters  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, hunted,  and  made  rough  maps  of  the 


ZEBULON    MONTGOMERY    PIKE     191 

locality,  gathering  much  information  about  the 
unknown  region,  and  after  acute  hardship  and 
suffering  from  the  cold,  the  little  expedition 
retraced  its  way  down  the  great  river,  reaching 
St.  Louis  in  April,  1806,  at  just  about  the  time 
that  Lewis  and  Clark  were  beginning  their  re- 
turn journey  from  the  Pacific. 

So  resourceful  and  indomitable  had  young  Pike 
shown  himself  to  be  on  this  important  mission 
into  the  unexplored  wilderness  of  the  north  that 
he  was  presently  selected  to  lead  an  expedition 
for  the  same  purpose  into  the  Soutlrwest,  and  in 
July  of  the  same  year  he  set  forth  for  that  re- 
gion of  mountains  and  prairies  where  the  great 
peak  which  is  now  his  namesake  frowned  upon 
the  resolute  scouts  who  would  challenge  the  un- 
trodden wilderness  at  its  foot. 

The  expedition  consisted  of  a  miscellaneous 
company,  including  a  surgeon,  a  sergeant,  two 
corporals,  sixteen  privates  and  an  interpreter. 
They  were  very  insufficiently  equipped  and  pro- 
visioned, as  it  turned  out. 

Sailing  up  the  Missouri  from  St.  Louis  in  two 
rough  boats,  they  came  after  six  weeks'  travel- 
ing to  the  Osage  River,  which  converges  with 
the  greater  stream  in  the  central  part  of  Mis- 
souri. Here  they  abandoned  their  boats  and 
procured  horses  with  which  to  continue  their 
journey. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  although  our 


192  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

country  had  purchased  this  vast  tract  of  Louis- 
iana from  France,  there  were  many  complica- 
tions in  connection  with  its  transfer.  Spain 
was  by  no  means  agreeable  to  the  negotiations 
between  the  United  States  and  France;  there 
was  much  dispute  and  dissatisfaction  over  the 
question  of  boundaries;  and  to  go  no  further 
into  the  matter,  it  may  be  stated  that  the  Span- 
ish authorities  in  New  Mexico  kept  a  jealous 
eye  upon  all  Americans  who  ventured  west  of 
the  Missouri  and  bent  their  course  southward. 

Not  that  Captain  Pike  cared  anything  about 
this.  He  knew  that  he  was  in  American  terri- 
tory and  he  intended  not  to  trespass  upon  Spain's 
possession  to  the  south.  He  was  not,  if  he  knew 
it,  going  to  accept  Spain's  arbitrary  dictum  as 
to  where  these  possessions  ended,  however.  In- 
deed, the  line  of  Spain's  southern  frontier  was, 
if  one  may  so  express  it,  up  in  the  air. 

On  learning  that  Pike  was  on  his  way  to  drive 
a  wedge  into  the  southwest  wilderness  the  au- 
thorities in  Santa  Fe  sent  an  armed  force  north- 
ward to  intercept  him.  They  advanced  as  far 
northward  as  the  Republican  Fork  in  the  south- 
ern part  of  the  present  State  of  Nebraska,  and 
here  as  Pike  and  his  men  pressed  southward 
they  came  upon  the  trail  of  this  formidable 
searching  party. 

It  was  all  they  ever  saw  of  it,  for  after  much 
wandering  in  this  direction  and  that,  its  leader, 


ZEBULON   MONTGOMERY    PIKE     193 

having  paid  a  visit  to  the  Pawnee  Indians  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  their  allegiance  (Spain 
claiming  this  whole  area),  led  his  troops  back 
to  Santa  Fe. 

Pike  said  that  if  he  had  met  them  he  would 
have  fought  them,  and  we  can  readily  believe 
that,  although  it  would  have  been  one  of  the 
most  uneven  conflicts  in  American  history. 

Pushing  southward  and  westward,  Captain 
Pike  came  upon  the  Pawnees  to  whom  the  Span- 
iards had  presented  a  Spanish  flag,  claiming 
their  allegiance.  The  young  scout  presented 
them  with  an  American  flag,  upon  which  they 
promptly  agreed  to  furl  the  banner  of  Spain 
in  favor  of  Old  Glory. 

It  was  while  among  these  warriors  of  doubt- 
full  allegiance  that  Pike  received  in  a  roundabout 
way  a  report  of  the  safe  arrival  of  Lewis  and 
Clark  in  St.  Louis,  and  we  may  infer  that  this 
news  buoyed  the  young  explorer  up  with  fresh 
courage  and  resolve  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
own  difficult  task. 

Reaching  the  Arkansas  River,  which  corre- 
sponds to  the  line  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail, 
Pike  began  following  it  westward,  intending  to 
reach  the  mountains,  where  he  expected  to  turn 
to  the  south,  find  the  Red  River  (which  rises 
in  the  western  part  of  Texas)  and  return  home 
by  that  route. 

On  November  15th,  as  they  were  slowly  press- 


194  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ing  their  way  westward  over  the  monotonous 
plains,  Pike  discerned  an  irregular  line  of 
shadow  far  ahead,  and  as  they  came  nearer  he 
perceived  it  to  be  a  range  of  mountains  with 
towering  peaks,  at  intervals  piercing  the  clouds. 

Cheered  at  the  sight  of  these  noble  heights, 
the  weary  travelers  paused  and  gave  three  cheers 
for  the  "Mexican  Mountains.' ' 

"What  they  saw  was,  of  course,  the  great  range 
of  the  Rockies.  Encouraged  by  the  apparent 
proximity  of  these  magnificent  heights,  they 
plodded  on,  intent  on  reaching  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  the  next  day. 

But  the  next  day  the  peaks  seemed  no  nearer 
than  before,  and  they  pressed  wearily  on,  kill- 
ing buffaloes  from  the  great  herds  which  were 
continually  crossing  their  path,  and  drying  some 
of  the  meat  to  carry  along  with  them. 

They  now  entered  an  area  of  evil  repute  known 
as  the  hostile  ground.  This  was  the  rugged 
country  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  mountains 
and  was  so  called  because  of  the  many  fierce 
encounters  which  had  occurred  there.  In  this 
Bloody  Way,  as  it  was  also  called,  predatory 
bands  of  Comanches  and  Pawnees  lurked  and 
roamed,  ever  in  wait  for  traders  who  should 
venture  within  these  perilous  precincts. 

Here  Pike  and  his  companions  met  with  a  war 
party  of  Pawnees  who  outnumbered  them  four 
to  one.    He  was  wise  enough,  therefore,  to  offer 


ZEBULON   MONTGOMERY   PIKE     195 

them  presents  instead  of  shot,  which  they  ac- 
cepted with  true  Pawnee  alacrity  and  appeared 
satisfied  until  the  little  pow-wow  broke  up. 

Then  their  greed  overcame  them  and  they 
manifested  a  disposition  to  levy  upon  the  re- 
maining goods  of  the  travelers.  It  was  time 
for  diplomacy  now,  and  Pike  informed  the  chief 
that  each  and  every  red  man  who  so  much  as 
laid  a  finger  upon  his  possessions  would  be  in- 
stantly killed. 

There  must  have  been  something  in  young 
Pike's  eye  to  confirm  his  portentous  words,  for, 
after  a  few  moments '  council  among  themselves, 
the  Indians  left  the  explorers  to  pursue  their 
journey  unmolested. 

They  presently  arrived  at  the  Grand  Fork, 
which  is  about  where  the  city  of  Pueblo,  Colo- 
rado, now  stands,  in  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
mountains. 

Here  they  built  a  rough  fort  of  logs,  which 
was  the  first  American  establishment  of  any 
kind  in  Colorado,  and  the  main  body  of  the 
expedition  settled  down  to  a  much-needed  rest 
while  their  intrepid  leader  with  three  compan- 
ions explored  the  neighboring  mountains. 

After  a  journey  of  thirty  or  more  miles,  the 
four  men  found  themselves  at  the  base  of  one 
of  the  towering  peaks  which  they  had  seen  from 
afar.  It  was  November,  the  cold  was  intense, 
and  as  they  climbed  the  forbidding  height  they 


196  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

were  forced  to  plow  knee-deep  through  the  snow. 

Their  sufferings  on  that  difficult  ascent  were 
indescribable.  Their  stock  of  clothing  was  so 
reduced  that  they  wore  only  overalls.  They 
had  no  socks  and  their  worn-out  shoes  were 
held  together  with  cords.  Their  food  was  in- 
sufficient, and  while  the  ghastly  specter  of  fam- 
ine crept  in  their  arduous  path,  they  climbed 
and  plodded  on  unheeding,  amid  wind  and  storm, 
in  imminent  peril  of  freezing. 

The  resolute  Pike  would  not  hear  of  turning 
back,  and  after  such  climbing  and  suffering  as 
few  men  would  be  able  to  endure,  the  exhausted 
party  reached  the  summit,  from  which  they  gazed 
out  through  a  blinding  snowstorm  at  a  mighty 
peak  about  fifteen  miles  distant.  This  was  the 
mountain  which  was  afterward  named  for  the 
dauntless  man  who  thus  beheld  it  for  the  first 
time. 

He  called  it  the  "Grand  Peak,"  and  so  it  must 
have  seemed  as  it  towered  serenely  amid  the 
wind  and  beating  snow,  a  very  symbol  of  gran- 
deur and  majestic  power.  The  ragged,  half- 
starved  adventurer  did  not  know  as  he  gazed 
upon  its  lordly  summit  that  its  fame  would  carry 
his  name  to  the  farthest  corners  of  the  world, 
associating  it  forever  with  all  that  is  grand  and 
noble  and  beautiful,  and  terrible  and  forbidding, 
in  Nature.  Zebulon  Pike  could  not  have  had  a 
more  befitting  namesake. 


ZEBULOX    MONTGOMERY    PIKE     197 

Retracing  his  way  to  the  fort,  Pike  found  his 
men  suffering  frightfully  from  lack  of  food  and 
clothing.  They  could  not  remain  long  in  such 
a  predicament.  The  perils  of  braving  that  for- 
bidding wilderness  with  such  slight  prospect  of 
obtaining  food  as  might  offer,  seemed  better  than 
inaction,  and  Pike  led  his  weakened  and  disheart- 
ened followers  on  up  the  Arkansas  River  toward 
its  source  in  the  mountains. 

Why  he  did  this,  in  his  desperate  strait  and 
in  the  face  of  increasing  privation  and  suffer- 
ing, is  not  known.  The  Red  River,  which  he 
had  expressed  his  intention  of  following,  lay 
to  the  southwest  and  the  presumption  has  always 
been  that  Pike  was  fully  aware  of  this. 

There  seems  no  explanation  of  the  subsequent 
pitiful  wanderings  of  the  wretched  party,  except 
just  that  they  were  lost  in  those  rocky  entangle- 
ments where  they  journeyed  with  apparent  aim- 
lessness  this  way  and  that,  their  sufferings  ever 
increasing. 

After  some  time  they  found  themselves  at  the 
headwaters  of  the  Arkansas  in  the  mountain 
fastnesses.  Their  feet  were  naked  and  freezing; 
they  were  without  food  and  almost  without  cloth- 
ing, sick  at  heart,  and  almost  dead  with  fatigue. 

They  managed  to  improvise  a  rough  sled  to 
carry  their  few  remnants  of  baggage.  Chron- 
iclers differ  as  to  whether  the  expedition  was 
lost  and  hopelessly  bewildered   or  whether   its 


198  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

indomitable  leader,  still  ignoring  peril  and  pri- 
vation, was  bent  on  new  discoveries. 

The  one  thing  which  is  definitely  known  is 
that  they  experienced  such  hardship  as  few  such 
expeditions  have  experienced.  At  length  they 
reached  a  spot  where  Pike  resolved  to  build  a 
shelter  which  he  called  a  fort. 

Here  they  stored  what  little  baggage  re- 
mained, and  leaving  an  interpreter  and  one 
other  man  to  guard  it,  they  set  forth  again 
with  packs  on  their  backs  across  the  mountains, 
with  the  single  purpose  of  finding  Eed  River 
— that  beacon  stream  which  should  guide  them 
homeward  out  of  this  heartless,  chaotic  wilder- 
ness. 

It  was  in  January,  1807,  that  they  started. 
Each  forlorn  wayfarer  carried  forty-five  pounds 
of  baggage  and  a  few  provisions.  They  pursued 
their  way  southward  amid  a  severe  blizzard  and 
penetrating  cold.  Very  soon  two  of  the  men 
were  compelled  to  give  up  because  of  frost-bit- 
ten feet.  The  party  could  not  with  safety  pause, 
and  these  wretched  sufferers  could  not  go  on. 

A  difficult  choice  confronted  Pike.  He  de- 
cided that  the  stricken  men  should  be  left  be- 
hind with  all  the  provisions  which  the  party 
had,  save  enough  for  one  scanty  meal. 

Bidding  good-bye  to  the  sufferers  the  others 
pushed  ahead,  and  on  the  28th  of  January  they 
were  cheered  by  falling  into  a  well-defined  trail 


ZEBULON   MONTGOMERY   PIKE     199 

with  odd  markings  on  the  bordering  trees.  They 
were,  indeed,  approaching  the  Mosca  Pass,  nine 
thousand  seven  hundred  feet  above  the  plains, 
and  shortly  to  their  delight  and  relief  they  could 
gaze  off  southward  on  a  vast  panorama,  where 
the  welcome  sight  of  the  Rio  Grande  greeted 
their  eyes.    They  believed  it  to  be  the  Red  River. 

But  their  sufferings  were  not  at  an  end.  Half- 
starved,  weary,  and  benumbed  with  the  cold, 
they  labored  on,  cheered  by  their  dauntless 
leader,  until  they  found  themselves  in  the  San 
Luis  Valley. 

Here,  at  last,  they  found  game  and  were  able 
to  remedy  one  cause  of  their  sufferings  and 
ghastly  apprehensions. 

They  were  now  in  the  extreme  southern  part 
of  Colorado,  on  a  branch  of  the  Rio  Grande 
called  the  Rio  Conejos,  and  on  its  northern  bank 
they  built  another  fort.  It  was  a  very  rough 
affair,  constructed  of  logs,  with  a  moat  around 
it,  and  as  well  equipped  for  defence  as  their 
poor  means  and  exhausted  strength  could  make 
it.  For  the  intrepid  Pike  was  now  resting  his 
weary  followers  in  a  country  where  he  had  every 
reason  to  apprehend  trouble  with  the  Spaniards, 
and  he  intended,  weak  and  spent  though  they 
were,  to  dispute  by  force  every  claim  which  the 
powers  at  Santa  Fe  might  advance. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  party  was  encamped 
in  territory  which  the   Spaniards   claimed   and 


200  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

which,  had  he  known  where  he  was,  Pike  wonld 
have  conceded  to  be  of  their  possession.  But 
he  thought  he  was  on  the  Eed  River  in  Texas, 
where  their  jurisdiction  was,  to  say  the  least, 
doubtful. 

Several  men  were  now  sent  back  to  bring  the 
two  who  had  been  left  behind,  but  the  poor 
wretches  could  not  travel  and  all  that  their 
would-be  rescuers  could  do  was  to  minister  to 
them,  and,  having  made  them  as  comfortable 
as  might  be,  leave  them  to  their  inevitable  fate. 
As  they  returned,  they  carried  back  several  bones 
from  the  feet  of  the  unhappy  victims — ghastly 
souvenirs  of  their  wretched  fate. 

At  last  the  expected  happened.  An  imposing 
company  of  mounted  militia  under  Don  Ignacio 
Salleto  appeared  before  the  little  fort.  Don 
Ignacio,  with  the  utmost  tact  and  courtesy,  in- 
quired after  the  health  of  the  heroic  Pike  and 
expressed  the  greatest  solicitude  for  him  and  his 
ragged  and  exhausted  companions.  He  was  kind- 
ness itself,  was  Don  Ignacio,  and  very  consid- 
erate of  the  pride  and  feelings  of  the  brave, 
travel-worn  trespassers. 

"Senor,"  said  he,  "the  Governor  of  New  Mex- 
ico, being  informed  that  you  had  missed  your 
route,  ordered  me  to  offer  you  in  his  name  mules, 
horses,  money,  or  whatever  you  may  stand  in 
need  of  to  conduct  you  to  the  head  of  Eed  River, 
as  from  Santa  Fe  to  where  it  is  sometimes  nav- 


ZEBULON   MONTGOMERY   PIKE     201 

igable  is  eight  days'  journey  and  we  have  guides 
and  the  routes  of  traders  to  conduct  us." 
This  was  certainly  very  polite. 
"What!"   said  Pike.     "Is  not  this  the  Red 
River  !" 

"No,  senor." 

When  Pike  had  recovered  from  his  astonish- 
ment he  immediately  ordered  his  flaunting  colors 
lowered,  a  rather  inglorious  sequel  to  his  martial 
preparations.  He  was  now  ready  enough  to  ad- 
mit that  he  was  unwittingly  trespassing. 

As  a  matter  of  plain  fact,  the  Spaniards  con- 
sidered that  he  had  been  trespassing  during 
practically  the  whole  of  his  unfortunate  wan- 
derings, and  they  would  have  still  considered 
him  as  trespassing  if  they  had  found  him  on 
the  shores  of  the  Red  River.  But  here,  at  least, 
there  could  be  no  dispute,  and  he  promptly  ac- 
cepted Don  Ignacio's  invitation  to  accompany 
him  to  Santa  Fe  to  "visit"  the  governor. 

It  was  in  reality  a  kind  of  sugar-coated  arrest, 
made  palatable  by  much-needed  food  and  provi- 
sions, and  an  accompaniment  of  superb  courtesy. 
Arrived  at  Santa  Fe,  the  Americans  were 
treated  with  consideration,  and  the  acute  suf- 
ferings which  the  party  had  undergone  as  well 
as  the  prowess  of  its  redoubtable  leader  were 
quite  sufficient  to  guarantee  them  a  cordial  hos- 
pitality, and,  ere  long,  a  safe  conduct  from  Span- 
ish territory. 


202  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Thus  ended  the  hazardous  expedition  of  Pike 
into  the  unknown  southwestern  wilderness.  Not- 
withstanding his  undoubted  courage  and  scout 
resourcefulness,  he  had  found  the  Rockies  a  foe- 
man  worthy  of  his  steel. 

In  good  time  the  little  expedition  reached  the 
East  and  Pike  received  the  grateful  acknowl- 
edgments of  the  government  for  his  journey  and 
for  the  very  considerable  amount  of  valuable  in- 
formation which  he  brought  back. 

He  rose  rapidly  to  the  rank  of  brigadier-gen- 
eral. In  1813  he  was  also  appointed  adjutant 
and  inspector-general  and  put  in  command  of 
the  land  portion  of  the  expedition  against  York 
in  Upper  Canada,  in  the  War  of  1812.  He  ar- 
rived at  York  with  seventeen  hundred  men, 
landed  under  a  heavy  fire,  and  while  storming 
a  battery  was  killed  by  the  explosion  of  a  mag- 
azine. 

But  although  he  fought  gallantly  and  died  a 
soldier's  death  in  the  Far  North,  his  name  is 
forever  associated  with  the  frowning  heights 
which  he  also  stormed  in  the  mountain  wilder- 
ness of  the  Southwest,  and  with  the  mighty 
mountain  which  stands  like  an  immortal  mon- 
ument to  commemorate  his  prowess  and  his 
suffering. 


ANDREW    LEWIS 

How  he  won  renown  as  a  border  fighter  and  how  he  led  the 
pioneers  of  Virginia  against  the  Indians  in  Lord  Dun- 
more's  War. 

A  mighty  man  was  Andrew  Lewis,  at  whose 
very  tread  the  world  shook  (if  we  are  to  believe 
his  friends),  and  compared  with  whose  forbid- 
ding visage  and  awful  mien  that  of  a  lion  would 
be  docility  itself.  He  had  a  voice  like  thunder, 
a  presence  like  that  of  Hercules,  and  an  eye 
whose  very  glance  was  like  unto  a  shot  from 
his  own  trusty  rifle. 

He  was  a  man  to  frighten  naughty  children 
with,  was  Andrew  Lewis. 

But  he  was  not  so  bad  when  one  got  to  know 
him,  as  we  shall  try  to  do  in  this  little  sketch 
of  his  life  and  adventures. 

He  was  Irish  and  proud  of  it,  and  a  scout 
and  border  fighter  of  the  first  rank.  He  had 
only  to  raise  his  hand  for  a  horde  of  sturdy 
borderers  like  himself  to  rally  around  him;  and 
if,  perchance,  the  raising  of  his  hand  failed,  the 
raising  of  his  voice  more  than  sufficed. 

He  was  born  in  the  year  1720,  and  his  parents 
emigrated  to  America  while  he  was  still  a  very 

203 


204  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

young  child.  They  settled  in  Virginia,  and  as 
Andrew  grew  up  all  doubt  was  dispelled  (if 
indeed  any  had  ever  existed)  as  to  his  choice 
of  a  profession.  He  intended  to  fight,  if  there 
were  any  fighting  to  do,  and  there  proved  to 
be  plenty  of  it. 

His  early  manhood  was  spent  as  a  typical 
borderer,  always  with  a  band  of  sturdy  woods- 
men at  his  back.  There  was  not  an  Indian 
lurking  on  the  frontier  who  did  not  know  of 
and  fear  Andrew  Lewis.  For  years  he  pro- 
tected the  settlements  from  savage  attacks,  pen- 
etrating far  into  the  backwoods  and  leading  the 
most  primitive  sort  of  life. 

There  is,  however,  one  episode  of  Virginia's 
history  with  which  this  sturdy  woodsman's  name 
is  forever  associated;  a  little  war  which,  com- 
ing just  before  the  Revolution,  seems  to  us  now 
like  a  tempest  in  a  teapot,  but  which  in  plain 
fact  was  one  of  the  most  desperate  encounters 
with  the  Indians  that  frontier  history  has  known. 

It  is  known  as  Lord  Dunmore's  War,  but  it 
did  rot  belong  exclusively  to  Lord  Dunmore,  as 
Ave  shall  see. 

In  the  year  1774,  there  were  rumblings  along 
the  border  which  told  the  settlers  that  trouble 
was  brewing,  but  open  hostilities  with  the  red 
men  might  have  been  averted  by  friendly  coun- 
cil and  new  treaties,  had  it  not  been  for  an  in- 
cident which  at  once  put  aside  all  prospect  of 


ANDREW   LEWIS  205 

peaceable  adjustment  and  plunged  Virginia  into 
a  bloody  war. 

At  that  time  there  lived  along  the  Ohio  River 
on  the  western  edge  of  what  is  now  West  Vir- 
ginia, an  Indian  named  Tah-gah-jute,  to  whom 
the  settlers  of  Virginia  had  given  the  name  of 
Logan. 

Though  of  the  Iroquois  nation,  he  lived  among 
the  Shawnees  and  his  fame  and  influence  were 
great  among  all  the  tribes.  In  all  their  squab- 
bles and  dissensions  he  held  himself  aloof,  and 
exerted  his  great  influence  to  induce  his  breth- 
ren to  remember  their  treaties  of  amity  and 
friendship  with  the  white  men.  The  fame  of 
Logan  is  great  now,  even  as  his  influence  was 
great  then,  and  there  are  few  who  have  not  read 
his  famous  speech,  delivered  after  the  close  of 
the  war,  which  for  dignity  and  touching  pathos  is 
not  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  savage  eloquence. 

The  friendship  of  Logan  was  a  guarantee  of 
peace  in  the  wild  Virginia  borderland  and  the 
white  men  knew  his  word  was  to  be  trusted. 

In  April,  1774,  a  trader  by  the  name  of  Great- 
house  visited  this  friendly  savage  and  after  ply- 
ing Logan  and  his  entire  family  with  liquor, 
cruelly  murdered  them  all  with  the  exception  of 
Logan  himself.  Why  this  ruffian  spared  the 
great  savage  is  not  known,  but  he  certainly 
reckoned  without  his  host. 

When  Logan  awoke  to  the  realization  of  what 


206  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

had  happened  lie  became  a  fiend  incarnate,  and 
in  his  savage  wrath  he  resolved  to  wreak  ven- 
geance on  the  whole  world  of  white  men. 

If  he  had  slain  the  wretch  who  had  so  wronged 
him  the  settlers  would  have  borne  no  grudge 
against  Logan,  for  the  rough  pioneers  were,  on 
the  whole,  fair-minded  men,  with  a  high  sense 
of  justice  and  a  rough-and-ready  honor. 

But  no  Indian,  however  wise  and  friendly,  has 
ever  been  able  to  draw  the  distinction  between 
injustice  to  his  race  and  the  irresponsible  mur- 
der of  one  of  its  members.  To  the  savage  mind 
— even  to  the  most  enlightened  savage  mind 
(and  Logan's  was  such) — the  race  must  always 
be  blamed  for  the  crime  of  the  individual. 

If  Logan  had  wreaked  vengeance  upon  Great- 
house  no  one  would  have  resented  it,  and  he 
would  have  done  a  service  to  the  world  in  rid- 
ding it  of  a  criminal,  but  instead  he  let  loose 
his  fury  upon  the  settlers  of  western  Virginia 
and  the  peaceful  frontier  settlements  with  their 
innocent  women  and  children  fell  within  the 
measure  of  his  wrath. 

His  great  prestige  among  the  tribes  was  now 
exercised  to  incite  them  to  the  warpath,  and 
presently  the  lonely  borderland  was  rendered 
frightful  by  the  flames  of  burning  homesteads 
and  the   cries   of  the   dying. 

At  that  time  the  Eoyal  Governor  of  Virginia 
was    Lord    Dunmore,    who,    seeing    this    terrific 


ANDREW  LEWIS  207 

storm  gathering  momentum  as  it  advanced,  mus- 
tered the  Virginia  militia  and  all  the  woodsmen 
and  pioneers  from  the  wild  country  roundabout 
and  set  in  motion  a  campaign  to  check  the  In- 
dians '  work  of  massacre  and  devastation. 

The  "left  wing"  of  this  miscellaneous  army 
was  given  in  charge  of  Andrew  Lewis,  who  at 
once  sent  out  a  call  to  his  men  to  rendezvous 
at  a  spot  which  has  since  been  named  in  his 
honor — Lewisburg.  The  other  wing  was  to  be 
commanded  by  Lord  Dunmore  himself  and  had 
its  rendezvous  at  Frederick. 

There  soon  began  assembling  at  Lewis'  ren- 
dezvous, which  he  called  Camp  Union,  such  a 
motley  array  of  scouts  and  backwoodsmen  as 
were  probably  never  before  brought  together. 
From  the  more  populous  eastern  settlements 
across  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  came  score 
upon  score  of  sturdy  settlers,  while  out  of  their 
remote  homes  in  the  backwoods  to  the  south 
and  west  others,  clad  in  buckskin,  made  their 
arduous  pilgrimage  to  Camp  Union  to  enlist 
under  the  standard  of  the  redoubtable  Lewis. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  singular  armies  ever 
mobilized.  George  Rogers  Clark,  Simon  Ken- 
ton, Daniel  Morgan,  and  indeed  almost  every 
famous  Kentucky  scout  and  pioneer  of  that  time, 
whom  one  could  mention,  joined  that  rough-and- 
ready  legion.  They  were  not  strong  on  disci- 
pline, and  though  their  relish  for  the  game  in 


208  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

hand  was  undoubted,  it  is  a  question  whether 
any  but  Andrew  Lewis  could  have  controlled 
them.  Of  warfare,  in  the  sense  in  which  we 
understand  the  term,  they  knew  nothing.  But 
they  were  all  crack  shots,  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  forests  and  the  habits  of  the  Indians, 
and  they  w^ere  past  masters  in  all  the  qualities  of 
scouting. 

We  shall  concern  ourselves  chiefly  with  this 
branch  of  the  Virginia  army.  The  plan  was  for 
Lewis  to  lead  his  men  westward  until  they  came 
to  the  Kanawha  Eiver  and  follow  it  to  the  point 
where  it  empties  into  the  Ohio.  Here  Lord  Dun- 
more  and  his  force  were  to  join  him  and  all 
were  to  advance  against  the  Shawnee  towns  and 
destroy  them. 

As  soon  as  all  was  ready  Lewis  and  his  men 
set  forth  on  their  difficult  journey  across  the 
mountains.  Not  a  sign  of  trail  was  there  and 
they  pressed  on  through  the  dense  forest,  cut- 
ting down  trees  as  they  advanced  in  order  to 
open  a  way  for  their  pack  horses.  None  but 
such  men  as  these  could  ever  have  traversed 
those  tangled  mazes  of  brush,  surmounting  the 
hundred  and  one  obstacles  which  the  rugged 
mountains  presented.  It  was  a  journey  of  over 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  the  wildest  coun- 
try imaginable,  but  here  Lewis  and  his  men 
were  in  their  element,  and  at  last  they  reached 
the  upper  waters  of  the  Kanawha,  where  they 


ANDREW   LEWIS  209 

built  canoes,  to  which  they  transferred  their 
luggage,  sending  their  horses  back. 

Here  also  they  found  a  note  in  the  hollow 
of  a  tree,  ordering  them  to  inarch  up  the  Ohio 
and  join  Dunmore's  forces.  As  all  of  Lewis's 
party  had  not  come  up,  however,  he  decided  to 
camp  until  the  remainder  of  his  men  arrived. 
While  they  waited,  two  young  men  of  the  party 
set  out  one  morning  on  a  scouting  and  hunting 
expedition.  They  had  not  gone  far  when  they 
encountered  a  large  band  of  Indians  who  im- 
mediately attacked  them.  One  of  the  scouts  was 
instantly  killed.  The  other  killed  his  assailant 
and  escaped,  reaching  the  camp  after  a  remark- 
able flight  through  the  forest.  Rushing  into 
camp,  he  gave  the  alarm,  and  immediately  prep- 
arations were  made  for  defence. 

The  band  of  Indians  which  had  thus  been 
discovered  was  much  larger  than  the  young 
scout  supposed.  It  constituted,  indeed,  the  en- 
tire force  of  savages  which  old  Cornstalk,  the 
Shawnee  chief,  had  assembled  to  attack  Lewis's 
force,  of  whose  advance  he  was  well  aware. 

Logan,  the  moving  spirit  of  the  whole  upris- 
ing, was  not  present  in  this  company,  but  old 
Cornstalk  was  a  host  in  himself.  His  plan  was 
quite  in  conformity  with  the  best  military  strat- 
egy, for  it  was  to  fall  on  one  party  (whose  num- 
ber he  knew  was  about  equal  to  his  own)  before 
it  could  possibly  effect  a  union  with  the  other 


210  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

party,  of  whose  advance  in  another  quarter  he 
also  knew. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  their  discovery  by  the 
two  young  men  the  Indians  would  undoubtedly 
have  fallen  upon  Lewis's  force  that  very  night 
and  a  bloody  massacre  would  very  likely  have 
resulted. 

There  was  nothing  now  for  Cornstalk  to  do 
but  to  lead  his  warriors  forward,  and  he  was 
wise  enough  not  to  give  his  enemy  any  time  for 
preparation. 

Scarcely,  therefore,  had  the  young  scout  pant- 
ed out  his  appalling  news  to  Lewis  when  the 
deafening  war-whoops  of  the  approaching  sav- 
ages could  be  heard,  and  soon  their  painted 
forms  were  seen  rushing  pell-mell  through  the 
woods,  incited  by  the  wily  chief  whose  voice 
could  be  heard  amid  the  uproar. 

In  the  brief  interval  of  hasty  preparation, 
Lewis  and  his  men  had  supposed  that  the  In- 
dians were  merely  a  small  band  sent  to  recon- 
noitre. All  such  hopeful  thoughts  were  now 
dispelled  as  they  saw  the  motley  array  advanc- 
ing through  the  forest. 

For  a  few  moments  Lewis's  stern  eye  was 
fixed  upon  the  multitude  of  warriors  and  their 
shouting  chief,  then  Avith  an  air  of  grim  deter- 
mination he  reached  £or  his  trusty — pipe.  "When 
he  had  lighted  it  he  took  several  good  puffs, 
then  forth  from  the   savory   smoke   issued  his 


ANDREW   LEWIS  211 

sonorous  command  for  one  of  the  columns  to 
move  forward. 

Instantly  the  men  obeyed,  moving  from  tree 
to  tree,  the  Indians  doing  the  same.  Then  the 
main  body  of  Lewis's  force  advanced  and  the 
engagement  began  in  earnest. 

The  Indians  fought  with  savage  desperation 
and  remarkable  skill  under  the  keen  eye  and 
continual  orders  of  old  Cornstalk,  who  proved 
himself  master  of  the  situation.  Rallying  his 
men  again  and  again,  he  led  them  forward  to 
bloody  charges,  which  resolved  themselves  into 
grim  hand-to-hand  encounters  among  the  trees. 

Amid  flying  tomahawks  and  rifle  volleys  the 
giant  form  of  Andrew  Lewis  could  be  seen  hur- 
rying about,  encouraging  his  men  and  giving 
orders  in  tones  that  made  the  forest  ring. 

It  was  a  typical  hand-to-hand  battle,  one  of 
the  most  savage  in  all  the  border  history.  Old 
Cornstalk  commanded  his  warriors  with  a  skill 
and  foresight  which  won  the  admiration  of  the 
white  men.  Once  he  was  seen  to  cut  down  with 
his  own  hand  a  cowardly  Indian  who  had  hesi- 
tated to  obey  his  order. 

Andrew  Lewis,  from  beginning  to  end,  was 
the  spirit  and  incentive  of  his  makeshift  but 
sturdy  army,  and  his  thundering  voice  might  be 
heard  mingling  with  that  of  his  noble  adversary 
as  he  instilled  fresh  courage  into  his  men. 

All  day  long  the  bloody  conflict  raged,   one 


212  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

side,  then  the  other,  driven  back,  and  there  was 
no  foretelling  what  the  issue  would  be. 

As  the  day  waned,  the  Indians,  in  the  course 
of  the  shifting  battle,  found  themselves  upon 
a  little  eminence,  deeply  wooded  with  protecting 
trees,  and  high  enough  to  give  them  an  advan- 
tage. 

In  desperation  Lewis  and  his  men  tried  to 
dislodge  them,  but  they  could  not  be  driven  from 
the  hill. 

The  fighting  now  became  desperate  in  the  ex- 
treme. The  woods  echoed  with  the  war  cries 
of  the  frantic  savages,  while  the  Virginians  from 
behind  trees  poured  volley  after  volley  among 
them. 

At  last  the  Indians  began  to  show  signs  of 
weakening  and  Colonel  Lewis  detached  some  of 
his  men,  under  a  sturdy  pioneer  named  Shelby, 
to  make  a  roundabout  march  and  attack  them 
in  the  rear. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  at  the  beginning 
of  the  battle  some  of  Lewis's  troops,  who  were 
coming  over  the  mountains,  had  not  yet  reached 
the  camp,  and  it  was  to  await  them  that  Lewis 
had  decided  to  camp  where  he  did. 

Cornstalk,  who  was  exceptionally  sagacious  for 
a  savage,  knew  of  the  expected  arrival  of  these 
other  troops,  and  when  he  discovered  Shelby 
and  his  men  opening  fire  upon  him  from  the  rear 


ANDREW   LEWIS  213 

he  mistook  this  small  party  for  the  large  band 
of  reinforcements. 

Lewis  gave  him  no  time  to  deliberate  or  to 
discover  the  truth,  but  advanced  at  once  with 
redoubled  fury,  and  the  suddenness  of  the  at- 
tack, together  with  the  old  chief's  misgivings 
at  the  supposed  turn  of  affairs,  caused  him  to 
withdraw  his  men,  which  he  did  in  a  masterly 
manner,  leaving  the  grimly  contested  field  in  pos- 
session of  Lewis  and  his  brave  border  fighters. 

The  ground  was  strewn  with  the  dead  of  both 
sides,  and  if  the  woodsmen  could  call  the  result 
a  victory,  it  was  a  victory  which  they  had  won 
at  a  staggering  cost.  Seventy-five  of  them  had 
been  killed  and  about  fifty  wounded.  The  In- 
dians had  not  lost  nearly  as  many. 

That  very  night  the  rear  guard  of  Lewis's 
army  arrived.  They  remained  at  the  bloody 
spot  for  several  days  to  regain  their  breath  and 
bury  their  dead.  Here,  also,  they  built  a  rough 
fort,  and,  leaving  some  men  to  garrison  it,  they 
pressed  on  through  the  wild  country  to  effect  a 
junction  with  Lord  Dunmore. 

The  spot  where  this  sanguinary  combat  oc- 
curred was  called  Point  Pleasant — a  singularly 
inappropriate  name  and  better  suited  to  a  mod- 
ern summer  resort  than  to  the  scene  of  one  of 
the  most  terrific  border  fights  in  pioneer  history. 

Lewis  and  his  backwoodsmen  were  not  in  a 
very  amiable  mood  toward  Lord  Dunmore,  and 


214  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

as  the  sturdy  giant  in  tattered  buckskin  led  his 
weary  and  wounded  men  along  the  trail  his  face 
bore  an  expression  of  grim  resolve  which  boded 
ill  for  that  tinseled  dignitary. 

He  and  his  men  believed  that  Dunmore  had 
planned  from  the  beginning  that  on  these  brave 
backwoodsmen  should  fall  the  burden  and  the 
perils  of  an  encounter  with  the  formidable  In- 
dian force.  Moreover,  the  spirit  of  '76  was 
already  beating  in  the  breasts  of  these  rough 
pioneers,  and  they  looked  upon  Lord  Dunmore 
as  an  aristocrat  who  despised  them  and  their 
simple  lives,  and  who  represented  a  king  whom 
they,  in  turn,  despised.  They  believed  that  Lord 
Dunmore  would  have  been  well  pleased  to  see 
them  and  all  other  patriots  annihilated  by  the 
Indians. 

The  Virginian  Governor  was  not  quite  as  bad 
as  that,  although  he  did,  when  the  time  arrived, 
prove  himself  a  pretty  staunch  supporter  of  the 
king.  It  is  not  improbable,  also,  that  he  did 
look  with  a  certain  aristocratic  disdain  upon 
these  rough  men  of  the  border  and  that  he  was 
willing  enough  to  have  them  bear  the  brunt  of 
the  battle — which,  they  certainly  did. 

But  there  is  no  evidence  of  premeditated 
treachery  on  his  part,  although,  as  it  fell  out, 
with  all  his  martial  preparations  and  his  vaunt- 
ed boasts,  his  task  simmered  down  to  the  less 
glorious  one  of  drawing  up  a  treaty  of  peace 


ANDREW   LEWIS  215 

with  the  Indians  whom  Lewis  had  fought.  This 
was  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  Lord  Dun- 
more  's  participation  in  Lord  Dunmore's  War, 
which  ought  to  have  been  called  Andrew  Lewis's 
War,  or  Cornstalk's  War,  or  Logan's  War. 

When  the  two  divisions  of  the  Virginia  army 
met  and  the  tattered  frontiersmen  beheld  the 
Virginia  militia  in  all  its  fine  feathers,  their 
indignation  rose  and  it  is  reported  that  fifty 
or  more  sturdy  woodsmen  were  required  to  re- 
strain their  furious  leader  from  a  personal  as- 
sault upon  the  Governor. 

However  this  may  be,  they  could  not  hold  his 
mighty  voice  in  check,  and  glaring  upon  the 
uniformed  lord,  he  delivered  a  volley  of  broad- 
sides from  his  lusty  lungs  which  struck  terror 
to  all  the  bystanders. 

Lord  Dunmore  wielded  his  pen  if  not  his 
sword,  and  taking  timely  advantage  of  Lewis's 
victory,  he  effected  the  treaty  which  brought 
his  namesake  war  to  an  end.* 

In  good  time  the  chiefs  assembled  to  ratify 
this  treaty  with  Virginia,  but  one  there  was  who 
did  not  attend  the  conference.  This  was  Logan, 
whose  deep  chagrin  and  noble  pride  held  him 
aloof  from  the  council.  He  gave  as  the  reason 
for  his  absence  that  he  could  not  restrain  him- 

*As  this  is  the  story  of  Andrew  Lewis  rather  than  that 
of  Lord  Dunmore's  War,  we  have  not,  of  course,  given  a 
complete  account  of  the  war  itself. 


216  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

self  in  the  presence  of  the  white  man.  This  was 
not  a  very  hopeful  augury  for  the  emissary  who 
was  afterward  commissioned  to  visit  him  and 
secure  his  approval  of  the  treaty,  but  it  was 
essential  that  someone  should  see  him,  for  a 
treaty  would  have  been  indeed  a  "  scrap  of  pa- 
per" without  Logan's  mark. 

So  a  hardy  old  woodsman  was  despatched  to 
make  this  perilous  visit  to  the  lion  in  his  den. 
Contrary  to  all  expectations,  Logan  received 
him  not  unkindly,  and  it  was  to  him  that  the 
Indian  delivered  his  famous  speech,  the  most 
often  quoted  of  any  Indian  utterance  and  which 
has  been  reprinted  many  times  and  in  several 
languages.  There  is  the  same  note  of  pride 
and  pathos  in  it  which  one  finds  in  the  briefer 
speech  of  Joseph  the  INTez  Perce  in  the  hour  of 
his  defeat,  and  which  imparts  that  touching  qual- 
ity to  all  the  simple  and  dignified  eloquence  of 
the  American  savage. 

"I  appeal  to  any  white  man  if  he  ever  en- 
tered Logan's  cabin  hungry  and  he  gave  him 
no  meat;  if  ever  he  came  cold  and  naked  and 
he  clothed  him  not?  During  the  course  of  the 
long  and  bloody  war,  Logan  remained  idle  in 
his  camp,  an  advocate  for  peace.  Such  was  my 
love  for  the  whites  that  my  countrymen  pointed 
as  I  passed  and  said,  '  Logan  is  the  friend  of 
the  white  man.'  I  had  even  thought  to  have 
lived  with  you,  but  for  the  injuries  of  one  man. 


ANDREW   LEWIS  217 

"Colonel  Cresep,  the  last  spring,  in  cold  blood 
and  unprovoked,  murdered  all  the  relations  of 
Logan,*  not  even  sparing  my  women  and.  chil- 
dren. There  runs  not  a  drop  of  my  blood  in  the 
veins  of  any  living  creature.  This  called  on  me 
for  revenge.  I  have  sought  it.  I  have  killed 
many.     I  have  fully  glutted  my  vengeance. 

"For  my  country,  I  rejoice  at  the  beams  of 
peace;  but  do  not  harbor  a  thought  that  mine 
is  the  joy  of  fear.  Logan  never  felt  fear.  He 
will  not  turn  on  his  heel  to  save  his  life. 

"Who  is  there  to  mourn  for  Logan?  Not  one!,: 

There  is  something  which  occasionally  occurs 
in  the  affairs  of  men  and  which  is  known  as 
poetic  justice;  which  means  a  retribution  or  a 
punishment  singularly  appropriate  and  happy. 

An  instance  of  it  is  found  in  the  fact  that  as 
the  wheels  of  time  revolved  and  the  War  of 
Independence  got  under  way,  Andrew  Lewis 
happened  to  be  the  very  man  whose  cheerful 
task  it  was  to  drive  Lord  Dunmore  from  Virginia. 
His  exaggerated  sense  of  wrong  caused  him  to 
prosecute  this  grateful  duty  with  great  zest,  thus 
winning  the  commendation  and  lasting  friend- 
ship and  support  of  General  Washington. 

He  fought  bravely  for  the  good  cause  but  al- 

*  Logan  always  erroneously  supposed  that  a  certain  Colo- 
nel Cresep  was  the  instigator  of  the  crime  of  which  Great- 
house  was  the  immediate  perpetrator. 


218  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ways  remained,  as  he  had  been  from  the  begin- 
ning, a  woodsman  and  border  lighter  rather  than 
a  full-fledged  soldier.  He  died  in  the  year  1780, 
after  about  as  strenuous  a  life  as  it  is  possible 
for  man  to  lead  on  this  planet. 

He  was  more  than  a  scout,  more  than  a  pio- 
neer, more  than  a  borderer — he  was  a  moving 
spirit  among  such  hardy  characters,  a  leader 
of  men  whom  it  was  not  easy  to  lead,  and  when 
he  thundered  forth  his  commands  and  raised 
himself  to  his  gigantic  height  among  them,  the 
Morgans  and  the  Clarks  and  the  Kentons  and 
the  Girtys,  and  even  old  John  Sevier,  who  was 
afraid  of  no  man,  and  all  the  other  rough-and- 
ready  heroes  of  the  frontier,  sat  up  and  took 
notice. 


GENERAL   HENRY   W.   LAWTON 

How  he  pursued  the  Apaches  and  captured  their  wily  chief; 
how  he  fought  in  our  country's  war  with  Spain;  and 
how  he  lost  his  life  running  down  insurgents  in  the 
Philippines. 

We  shall  consider  General  Lawton  in  his  pic- 
turesque role  of  trailer  and  Indian  fighter  rather 
than  in  his  capacity  of  soldier  in  the  more  strict- 
ly military  operations  in  which  he  was  engaged. 
This  will  not  be  unfair  to  his  memory;  for  though 
he  served  with  distinction  in  the  Civil  War  and 
with  striking  heroism  in  the  war  with  Spain, 
opening  the  battle  of  Santiago  by  the  capture 
of  El  Caney,  his  name  is  forever  fixed  as  the 
captor  of  the  wily  Apache,  Geronimo,  and  as 
the  relentless  pursuer  of  insurgents  in  the  jun- 
gles of  the  Philippines. 

It  was  his  extraordinary  prowess  in  these  ro- 
mantic fields  which  entitles  him  to  a  conspicuous 
place  in  this  category,  even  though  our  account 
of  him  must  be  somewhat  one-sided  and  incom- 
plete. 

He  was  born  in  Lucas  County,  Ohio,  in  1843. 
In  1861  he  joined  the  Federal  forces  as  a  ser- 
geant and  was  rapidly  promoted  until  he  at- 
tained the  rank  of  brevet-colonel  in  1865.     The 

219 


220  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

following  year  lie  entered  the  regular  army  as 
Second  Lieutenant  of  the  41st  Infantry  (col- 
ored) and  was  transferred  in  1871  to  the  Fourth 
Cavalry  with  which  he  remained  until  1888,  and 
during  this  time  occurred  the  Indian  adventures 
to  which  we  shall  give  particular  attention. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  war  with  Spain  Law- 
ton  was  appointed  brigadier-general  of  volun- 
teers by  President  McKinley,  and  given  com- 
mand of  a  division  of  the  Fifth  Army  Corps 
under  General  Shafter. 

Later  he  was  sent  to  the  Philippines  to  help 
quell  the  insurgent  uprising  which  was  an  ac- 
companiment and  aftermath  of  the  war. 

He  was  a  man  of  gigantic  size,  of  phenomenal 
strength  and  activity,  of  utter  fearlessness,  and 
with  a  capacity  for  endurance  and  privation 
which  was  nothing  less  than  miraculous.  He  was 
quite  as  picturesque  as  any  scout  of  old.  He 
never  told  his  men  to  go  ahead — he  led  them. 
He  loved  danger  for  its  own  sake. 

Let  us  glance  briefly  at  the  second  Apache 
war  in  which  Lawton  performed  his  most  con- 
spicuous feat. 

It  has  been  said  that  most  of  the  quarrels  in 
the  world  are  caused  by  questions  of  money,  and 
it  may  be  safely  added  that  two-thirds  of  our 
country's  latter-day  troubles  with  the  Indians 
have  been  caused  by  questions  of  "reserva- 
tions."    The  farmer  who  is   ousted  from  his 


GENERAL   HENRY   W.   LAWTON     221 

land  in  order  that  a  railroad  may  be  put  through 
is  not  likely  to  appreciate  the  great  advantage 
of  a  railroad.  And  that  was  very  much  the 
trouble  with  Chief  Geronimo,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  savages  with  whom  our  government 
has  ever  had  to  deal.  He  was  a  chief  of  the 
Apache  tribe  wiiich  inhabited  Arizona  and  New 
Mexico. 

There  have  been  few  Indians  sagacious  enough 
to  appreciate  the  wisdom  of  the  United  States 
Government  in  driving  them  from  one  place  to 
another.  Usually  it  has  been  explained  to  them 
that  they  will  be  much  better  off  in  lands  se- 
lected for  them  by  the  government,  and  as  a 
rule  they  have  failed  utterly  to  perceive  this 
and  have  answered  such  representations  with 
rebellion. 

As  if  one  Apache  war  were  not  enough,  a  sec- 
ond one  came  about  through  our  government's 
ordering  the  tribe  to  leave  the  reservation  where 
they  had  been  living  contentedly  and  go  to  an- 
other one  at  San  Carlos. 

Of  course,  they  were  dissatisfied.  First  they 
grumbled,  then  they  threatened,  and  then  they 
rose  in  open  rebellion  and  left  the  reservation 
altogether. 

So  again  Uncle  Sam's  cavalry  must  take  the 
saddle  and  there  presently  ensued  such  a  wild- 
goose  chase  as  the  West  had  never  seen  before. 
It  continued  like  a  colossal  game  of  hide-and- 


222  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

seek  until   General  Henry  W.   Lawton   became 
"it." 

Among  the  spirited  Apaches  was  a  famous 
chief  named  Geronimo  and  another,  hardly  less 
notable,  by  the  name  of  Chato. 

These  two  Indians  were  cousins  and  they  pro- 
fessed to  hate  each  other.  Chato  offered  to 
help  the  troopers  in  their  efforts  to  run  down 
Geronimo.  But  all  the  while  these  wily  cousins 
were  playing  a  very  successful  little  game  on 
the  troopers.  Chato  would  send  word  to  Ge- 
ronimo in  which  direction  the  pursuit  lay,  and 
Geronimo  would  take  a  different  direction. 

Thus  Geronimo,  with  a  couple  of  hundred  fol- 
lowers, was  able  to  lead  his  pursuers  a  wild- 
goose  chase  for  many  days. 

At  the  outset,  Geronimo  traveled  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  before  making  his  first  camp. 
Try  as  they  might,  the  troopers  could  not  get 
within  gunshot  of  him,  and  though  the  chase  was 
pressed  for  hundreds  of  miles,  the  elusive  chief 
with  his  marauding  band  kept  out  of  reach  of 
the  white  men. 

In  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains  were  many 
hidden  recesses,  known  to  Geronimo,  and  here 
he  lived  for  a  while  in  comparative  safety,  flee- 
ing from  one  refuge  to  another,  subsisting  on 
roots  and  herbs,  and  enduring  privation  and 
hardship  with  all  the  amazing  fortitude  for 
which  his  people  were  famous.     Often  he  and 


GENERAL   HENRY   W.   LAWTON     223 

his  followers  went  for  days  without  food  and 
journeyed  for  days  without  rest. 

Now  the  troopers  would  be  close  upon  his 
trail ;  now  he  would  be  miles  away.  They  learned 
at  length  to  place  no  faith  in  the  advice  of  the 
wily  Chato  whose  elaborate  directions  led  them 
nowhere. 

But  General  Crook  never  despaired,  and  at 
length  the  chief  and  his  band  were  corraled; 
but  it  was  like  trying  to  hold  an  eel. 

For  just  one  night  Geronimo  remained  a  cap- 
tive; then  he  disappeared.  While  the  soldiers 
were  discussing  the  question  of  responsibility 
for  his  escape  he  stole  back  to  camp  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  following  night,  carried  off  his  wife, 
and  was  beyond  reach  again  before  the  troopers 
knew  what  had  happened. 

This  was  too  much. 

Our  government  had  an  agreement  with  Mex- 
ico by  which  our  troopers  might  pursue  maraud- 
ing Indians  beyond  the  Rio  Grande  when  they 
were  seeking  to  escape  into  Mexico. 

That  is  exactly  what  Geronimo  did. 

It  was  then  that  there  appeared  conspicuously 
upon  the  scene  that  wizard  of  the  chase,  General 
Lawton.  He  took  the  field  with  the  Fourth  Cav- 
alry in  March,  1885,  declaring  that  if  Geronimo 
were  not  a  myth  he  would  run  him  down. 

The  elusive  chief's  exploits  had,  indeed,  made 
him  seem  something  of  a  myth  and  there  were 


224  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

those  who  had  come  to  regard  the  hunt  for  him 
as  a  pursuit  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp. 

But  Lawton  declared  that  he  would  capture 
the  slippery  Geronimo  if  he  had  to  pursue  him 
to  the  City  of  Mexico. 

The  resolute  trooper  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
The  fugitive  crossed  the  Bio  Grande,  as  he  had 
done  before,  but  this  time  with  Lawton  close 
upon  his  heels.  Then  followed  an  exciting  chase 
of  over  two  hundred  miles. 

From  time  to  time  the  chief  and  his  followers 
were  approached  near  enough  to  permit  of  at- 
tack, and  in  each  such  instance  he  resumed  his 
flight  with  fewer  warriors,  but  he  always  re- 
sumed it! 

Farther  and  farther  into  Mexico  the  wearying 
pursuers  toiled.  They  explored  canyons  so  deep 
and  dark  that  through  the  narrow  ribbon  of  sky 
high  above  them  the  stars  could  be  seen  at  mid- 
day. They  lived  upon  the  flesh  of  wild  beasts, 
when  they  could  find  them,  and  in  the  vast  lava 
fields  they  suffered  the  pangs  of  thirst. 

Now  and  then  from  some  remote  fastness  in 
the  mountains  far  above  them  a  shred  of  blue 
smoke  drifted  on  the  sultry  air  followed  by  the 
spent  sound  of  a  rifle  shot,  which  told  the  keen 
pursuer  where  his  crafty  quarry  was  concealed. 

In  this  intricate  wilderness  of  valley  and  moun- 
tain horses  could  not  longer  be  used  and  Lawton 
ordered  his  cavalrymen  to  follow  on  foot. 


GENERAL   HENRY   W.   LAWTON     225 

"We  will  walk  him  down  and  climb  him  down 
if  we  cannot  run  him  down/'  he  said  to  one  of 
his  men. 

At  last,  after  six  weeks  of  pursuit,  the  like 
of  which  for  resourcefulness  and  persistence,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find,  an  emaciated  Indian 
made  his  way  to  Lawton's  lonely  camp  and  said 
that  his  chief  could  elude  the  white  man  no 
longer  and  was  ready  to  surrender. 

Unaccompanied,  the  courageous  Lawton  made 
his  way  to  the  remote  spot  where  his  quarry  lay 
and  kindly  received  Geronimo's  submission. 

The  doggedness  and  vitality  and  resourceful- 
ness of  the  amazing  Apache  had  met  with  a  dog- 
gedness and  resourcefulness  and  vitality  quite 
as  remarkable  as  his  own.  No  ability  to  stand 
deprivation,  no  untiring  energy,  no  fleetness  of 
foot  or  familiarity  with  swampy  retreats  and 
mountain  fastnesses  could  save  the  Apaches  from 
this  grim  and  resolute  trooper,  who  galloped  as 
long  as  he  could,  then  climbed  after  them  wher- 
ever they  might  go,  seeing  through  every  ruse, 
undeterred  by  morass  and  thicket,  pressing  the 
pursuit  ever  more  persistently  until  the  weary 
quarry  was  at  last  brought  to  bay. 

For  three  hundred  miles  into  Mexico  the  chase 
had  been  carried.  The  trail  wound  in  and  out 
of  canyons  and  mountain  ravines,  repeatedly 
doubling  upon  itself,  but  with  the  resolute  pur- 
suer ever  drawing  nearer  to  the  dusky  fugitives; 


226  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

who  at  last  were  so  worn  out  that  surrender  was 
the  only  alternative  to  ntter  exhaustion. 

A  friend  of  General  Lawton  has  given  us  a 
vivid  picture  of  the  great  trailer  as  he  appeared 
after  his  phenomenal  chase  of  Geronimo,  which 
we  cannot  refrain  from  quoting,  for  it  fixes  him 
in  the  mind's  eye  as  no  amount  of  general  de- 
scription could  do. 

"He  stood  on  the  Government  reservation  at 
San  Antonio,  surrounded  by  the  tawny  savage 
band  of  Chiricahui  Apaches,  whom  he  had  hunt- 
ed off  their  feet.  Near  him,  taciturn  but  of 
kindly  visage,  stood  young  chief  Naches,  almost 
as  tall  as  he.  In  a  tent  close  by  lay  Geronimo 
groaning  from  a  surplusage  of  fresh  beef,  eaten 
raw.  The  squat  figures  of  'the  hereditary  ene- 
mies of  the  whites  grouped  about  him  came  only 
to  the  general's  shoulder.  He  towered  among 
them,  stern,  powerful,  dominant — an  incarnation 
of  the  spirit  of  the  white  man  whose  war  drum 
has  beat  around  the  world. 

"Clad  in  a  faded,  dirty  fatigue  jacket,  greasy 
flannel  shirt  of  gray,  trousers  so  soiled  that  the 
stripe  down  the  leg  was  barely  visible,  broken 
boots,  and  a  disreputable  sombrero  that  shaded 
the  harsh  features  burned  almost  to  blackness, 
he  was  every  inch  *a  suldier  and  a  man.  To  the 
other  officers  at  the  post  the  Indians  paid  no 
sort  of  attention.  To  them,  General  Stanley  and 
his  staff  were  so  many  well-dressed  lay  figures, 


GENERAL   HENEY   W.   LAWTON     227 

standing  about  as  part  of  a  picture  done  for 
their  amusement;  but  the  large,  massive  man 
with  the  stubble  on  his  chin  had  shown  them  that 
he  was  their  superior  on  hunting-grounds  that 
were  theirs  by  birthright,  and  they  hung  upon 
his  lightest  word." 

"What  to  do  with  Geronimo  was  a  question. 
He  and  his  tribe  bore  a  bitter  grudge  against 
the  white  men,  and  as  long  as  he  inhabited  the 
Southwest  the  ranchmen  would  feel  unsafe.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  and  his  leading  chiefs  were  sent 
to  Fort  Pickens  in  Florida.  Others  of  the  tribe 
were  sent  to  Fort  Marion  in  St.  Augustine. 
Here  their  health  became  so  poor  that  they  were 
again  removed,  this  time  to  Mount  Vernon  in 
Alabama. 

There  were  fewer  than  ^.ve  hundred  of  them 
altogether,  men,  women  and  children.  A  school 
was  opened  by  our  government,  whither  the 
Apache  boys  and  girls  were  sent  to  receive  in- 
struction, and  it  is  pleasant  to  relate  that  some 
of  the  brightest  pupils  in  the  well-known  Indian 
school  at  Carlisle  were  the  boys  and  girls  whose 
fathers  tried  to  elude  General  Lawton  in  the 
mountain  fastnesses  of  Mexico. 

As  for  the  redoubtable  trailer  himself,  he  was 
destined  to  win  new  laurels  in  strange  and  far 
distant  fields,  and  we  shall  pass  over  his  career 
as  a  soldier  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word 


228  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

and  follow  him  again  upon  the  trail — this  time 
in  the  tangled  jungles  of  the  Philippines. 

The  establishment  of  peace  between  the  United 
States  and  Spain  did  not  greatly  influence  the 
insurgents  of  the  far-off  Pacific  islands,  who, 
inspired  by  their  crafty  leader  Aguinaldo,  kept 
up  a  troublesome  savage  warfare  against  our 
country's  forces. 

It  is  a  pity  that  Geronimo  and  Aguinaldo  could 
not  have  met,  for  they  would  have  found  much 
in  common,  both  being  past  masters,  not  only  in 
the  art  of  elusiveness,  but  in  the  faculty  of  in- 
citing their  followers  by  false  representations. 

Aguinaldo  told  his  people  that  they  would  fare 
worse  under  American  rule  than  they  had  under 
Spanish  (which  was  saying  a  great  deal),  and 
that  our  troops  must  be  exterminated. 

The  prospect  of  peace  and  prosperity  for 
which  our  government  was  working  was  very 
soon  clouded  by  the  activities  of  these  insur- 
gents, incited  by  the  wily  and  ambitious  Agui- 
naldo. 

Assaults  and  robberies  were  committed  on  our 
troops,  citizens  and  friendly  natives  were  killed, 
clubs  were  organized  to  encourage  hatred  of 
Americans,  all  boys  over  sixteen  were  forced 
to  service  in  Aguinaldo 's  ramshackle  army,  while 
every  blacksmith  in  Manila  was  kept  busy  forg- 
ing arms  for  the  insurgent  mob. 

There  were  some  intelligent  people  among  the 


GENERAL    HENRY   "W.   LAWTON     229 

natives  who  really  desired  good  government  and 
who  feared  that  the  United  States  would  become 
disgusted  and  abandon  the  islands  altogether. 
They  pleaded  with  Aguinaldo  to  write  to  Presi- 
dent McKinley  and  beseech  him  not  to  take  such 
a  course,  and  Aguinaldo  promised  that  he  would. 
But  if  he  ever  did  it  he  neglected  to  mail  the 
letter. 

Aguinaldo  formed  a  plan  to  drive  out  all  the 
American  forces.  "With  the  help  of  his  trusty 
lieutenant,  Eio  del  Pilar,  whom  he  called  a  gem 
eral,  he  arranged  that  the  militia  of  Manila 
should  rise  and  assist  in  a  sudden  and  over- 
whelming attack  on  the  small  army  of  the  United 
States. 

No  very  definite  plans  for  this  crushing  attack 
were  made,  and  since  Aguinaldo  and  his  "staff' 
could  not  agree,  they  fell  back  on  the  novel  re- 
source of  each  directing  his  own  "troops"  in 
his  own  way. 

This  free  and  easy  form  of  warfare  resulted 
in  a  reign  of  terror.  The  peaceful  native  pop- 
ulation fled  in  dismay,  the  streets  and  houses 
of  the  towns  were  deserted,  the  rural  districts 
became  infested  with  marauding  bands  of  mur- 
derous insurgents  with  about  as  much  military 
discipline  as  that  governing  a  pack  of  wolves. 

Conspicuous  among  the  men  who  braved  the 
perils  of  the  fever-laden  jungles  to  root  out 
these  bands  of  insurgents  was  General  Lawton, 


230  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

who  had  been  sent  to  the  Philippines  for  this 
purpose. 

It  was  altogether  proper  that  he  should  be 
selected  for  this  purpose,  for  he  was  at  home 
in  mountain  recesses  and  never  so  happy  as 
when  in  hot  pursuit  across  wide  plains,  or  work- 
ing his  way  through  the  labyrinth  of  some  all 
but  impenetrable  thicket. 

He  was  indeed  the  very  Francis  Marion  of 
his  later  time,  delighting  in  adventurous  ex- 
ploits. Inspiring  his  men  with  his  own  conta- 
gious patriotism  and  spirit,  he  was  the  most 
conspicuous  figure  throughout  the  early  part  of 
the  fighting  in  the  Philippines. 

He  drove  the  insurgents  from  the  vicinity  of 
Manila  into  the  swamps  and  mountains,  pur- 
suing them  relentlessly,  and  no  secret  cave  or 
pestilent  lowland  was  too  remote  or  inaccessible 
for  him  to  penetrate. 

The  insurgents,  like  the  Indians  of  our  own 
country,  came  to  regard  him  as  a  sort  of  super- 
natural creature,  against  whom  opposition  and 
strategy  were  useless. 

Eeturning  to  Manila  in  1899,  after  a  whirl- 
wind campaign  in  the  north  cf  Luzon,  Lawton 
started  for  the  town  of  San  Mateo,  where  a  body 
of  insurgents  was  committing  great  depreda- 
tions. 

A  march  of  some  twenty  miles  was  before 
him,  and  he  led  his  men  through  a  dense,  jungle- 


GENERAL     HENRY    W.     LAWTON 


GENERAL   HENEY   W.   LAWTON     231 

covered  country  in  the  darkness  of  night.  The 
rain  fell  in  such  a  torrential  downpour  as  occurs 
nowhere  outside  of  the  tropics,  and  the  soldiers 
plodded  knee-deep  through  the  green  slime  of 
the  morass,  cheered  and  heartened  by  their  in- 
trepid leader. 

Now  their  way  led  up  some  precipitous  height 
where  tangled  underbrush  challenged  their  ad- 
vance; now  through  some  dark  and  dripping 
glade  with  no  more  sign  of  pathway  than  there 
is  in  the  waste  of  ocean;  and  all  night  long  the 
rain  fell. 

Perhaps  as  this  dauntless  trailer,  undismayed, 
made  his  way  through  the  tropic  maze,  his  res- 
olute purpose  never  shaken  by  storm  or  swamp 
or  jungle  or  darkness,  his  thoughts  wandered 
back  to  those  days  in  Arizona  when  he  trailed 
the  weary  Geronimo  and  caused  even  the  sea- 
soned pathfinders  of  the  warlike  Apaches  to  open 
their  eyes  in  dismay.  He  was  always  fond  of 
recalling  his  quest  of  the  elusive  Geronimo. 

At  daylight  the  little  force  came  upon  the 
enemy,  five  hundred  strong,  entrenched  beyond 
a  small  river.  The  general  formed  and  ad- 
vanced his  troops  to  within  three  or  four  hun- 
dred yards  and  then,  with  several  officers,  rode 
forward  to  reconnoitre. 

His  tall,  straight  figure  made  him  a  conspic- 
uous target  for  the  Filipinos.  One  of  his  officers 
earnestly  besought  him  to  be  careful,  but  he  re- 


232  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OP  SCOUTS 

plied:  "I  must  see  what  is  going  on  on  the  firing 
line." 

He  had  advanced  hardly  twenty  paces  more 
when  he  met  two  of  his  aides  returning.  Before 
they  had  a  chance  to  speak  a  word  they  saw  him 
start,  clench  his  hands  and  turn  pale. 

"Are  you  hurt,  General?"  one  of  the  aides 
asked. 

"Yes,  I  am  shot  through  the  lungs,"  he  re- 
plied, as  he  fell  forward  with  blood  pouring 
from  his  mouth. 

General  Lawton  never  spoke  again.  In  a  few 
minutes  all  was  over.  No  doubt  it  was  fitting 
that  this  great  soldier  and  trailer  should  thus 
ride  to  meet  his  death  through  storm  and  dark- 
ness, through  swamp  and  jungle,  and  out  of  the 
fastnesses  which  never  baffled  him  and  which  he 
loved  so  well. 


JOSEPH,    THE    NEZ    PERCE 

How  he  arose  among  his  people  in  the  hour  of  their  need; 
of  his  qualities  of  scout  and  pathfinder,  and  how  he 
played  a  wonderful  but  losing  game  with  his  pursuers. 

It  would  be  strange  if  a  book  of  scouts  con- 
tained no  representative  of  the  Indian  race,  for 
there  can  be  no  question  of  the  Indian's  suprem- 
acy in  many  of  the  qualities  which  are  insepa- 
rably associated  with  scouting.  As  a  tracker 
and  trailer  the  American  Indian  has  had  but 
one  rival,  and  that  is  the  East  Indian,  whose 
skill  in  path-finding  and  kindred  arts  of  the  scout 
approaches  close  to  the  miraculous. 

We  shall  find  in  American  history  no  such 
amazing  feats  as  those  recorded  of  our  primi- 
tive American's  eastern  brother,  the  authenticity 
of  whose  phenomenal  " stunts"  may  sometimes 
be  fairly  called  into  question.  Many  amazing 
instances  of  deductive  and  tracking  skill  are  also 
related  of  the  Arabs,  whose  proficiency  in  this 
phase  of  scouting  may  be  considered  as  natural 
enough  when  we  remember  the  vast  desert  which 
is  their  home. 

General  Sir  Baden-Powell,  Great  Britain's 
Boer  War  hero,  tells  of  an  instance  which  il- 
lustrates this  skill. 

>  233 


234  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 


a 


;An  officer  lost  his  field  glasses  during  some 
maneuvers  on  the  desert  five  miles  from  Cairo, 
and  he  sent  for  the  native  trackers  to  look  for 
them.  They  came  and  asked  to  see  the  tracks 
of  his  horse;  so  the  horse  was  brought  out  and 
led  about,  so  that  they  could  see  his  footprints. 
These  they  carried  in  their  minds  and  went  out 
to  where  the  maneuvers  had  been;  there,  among 
the  hundreds  of  hoofmarks  of  the  cavalry  and 
artillery,  they  very  soon  found  those  of  the  of- 
ficer's horse,  and  followed  them  up  wherever  he 
had  ridden,  till  they  found  the  field  glasses  lying 
where  they  had  dropped  out  of  their  case  on  the 
desert. 

4  *  These  trackers,"  the  General  adds,  "are  par- 
ticularly good  at  spooring  camels.  To  anyone 
not  accustomed  to  them,  the  footmark  of  one 
camel  looks  very  like  that  of  any  other  camel, 
but  to  a  trained  eye  they  are  all  as  different  as 
people's  faces,  and  these  trackers  remember  them 
very  much  as  you  would  remember  the  faces  of 
people  you  had  seen.  About  a  year  ago  a  camel 
was  stolen  near  Cairo.  A  tracker  was  sent  for 
and  shown  its  spoor.  He  followed  it  for  a  long 
way  until  it  got  into  some  streets,  where  it  was 
entirely  lost  among  other  footmarks.  But  the 
other  day,  a  year  later,  this  tracker  suddenly 
came  on  the  fresh  track  of  this  camel;  he  had 
remembered  its  appearance  all  that  time.  It  had 
evidently  been  walking  with  another  camel  whose 


JOSEPH,    THE    NEZ   PERCE         235 

footmark  he  knew  was  one  belonging  to  a  camel 
owned  by  a  well-known  camel  thief.  So  without 
trying  to  follow  the  tracks  when  they  got  into 
the  city  he  went  with  a  policeman  straight  to 
the  man's  stable,  and  there  found  the  long  miss- 
ing camel.' ' 

The  General  could  hardly  tax  our  credulity 
more  if  he  told  us  what  the  two  friendly  camels 
talked  about  as  they  strolled  together.  Nor  does 
he  vouchsafe  us  much  time  to  digest  this  ex- 
traordinary episode,  for  he  goes  on  to  describe 
the  scouting  proficiency  of  the  South  American 
cowboys  who,  we  infer,  could  follow  the  trail 
of  anything  short  of  an  aeroplane. 

"The  Gauchos,  or  native  cowboys,"  he  says, 
"are  fine  scouts.  Though  the  cattle  lands  are 
now  for  the  most  part  enclosed,  they  used  for- 
merly to  have  to  track  stolen  and  lost  beasts 
for  miles,  and  were  therefore  very  good  track- 
ers. The  story  is  told  that  one  of  these  men 
was  sent  to  track  a  stolen  horse,  but  failed  to 
follow  it  up.  Ten  months  later,  when  in  a  dif- 
ferent part  of  the  country,  he  suddenly  noticed 
the  fresh  spoor  of  this  horse  on  the  ground.  He 
had  remembered  its  appearance  all  that  time. 
He  at  once  followed  it  up  and  recovered  it  for 
his  master." 

As  for  the  uncanny  scouts  of  Hindustan,  who 
were  said  to  distinguish  family  resemblances  in 
animals,  recognizing  the  children  and  grandchil- 


236  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

dren  of  aged  tigers  and  other  beasts  miles  from 
the  parental  home,  we  shall  pass  these  heroes 
over  as  belonging  in  the  category  of  magicians 
rather  than  scouts;  and  we  may  do  this  with  a 
clear  conscience,  remembering  that  many  of  the 
feats  ascribed  to  Daniel  Boone  and  Kit  Carson 
which  have  gained  currency  in  Europe  have  no 
foundation  whatever  in  fact. 

It  would  be  quite  possible,  if  one  cared  to,  to 
divulge  some  of  the  exploits  of  one  "Woo  See,  a 
pig-tailed  scout  of  China,  whose  scouting  achieve- 
ments along  the  headwaters  of  the  Yang-Tse- 
Kiang  did  him  great  credit  and  constituted  him 
a  fitting  rival  of  Aladdin. 

But  we  shall  renounce  these  and  other  •temp- 
tations far  afield  in  order  that  we  may  see 
America  first,  and  follow  the  trail  of  one  of  our 
own  familiar  red  men  whose  feats,  we  apprehend, 
will  be  quite  sufficient  to  set  a  test  upon  our 
credulity. 

As  we  know,  many  of  the  scouting  qualities 
which  the  American  pioneer  acquired  he  learned 
directly  from  the  Indians.  Indeed,  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  any  American  scout  of  the 
white  race  has  ever  quite  attained  the  suprem- 
acy of  his  red  brother  in  tracking  and  stalking, 
and  in  that  knowledge  of  the  forest  which  makes 
possible  the  elusive  flights  by  which  the  Indian 
has  been  able  to  evade  capture  and  baffle  pursuit 
for  many  days  at  a  stretch. 


JOSEPH,   THE    NEZ   PERCE         237 

The  white  pioneer  was  not  long  in  the  back- 
woods before  he  had  shown  his  undoubted  su- 
periority in  marksmanship,  a  quality  which  the 
astonished  Indian  always  envied,  but  could  never 
quite  master,  in  anything  approaching  to  the 
white  man's  accuracy  of  aim.  It  has  been  said 
that  the  Indian's  immemorial  use  of  the  bow  and 
arrow,  his  weapon  for  generations,  has  operated 
as  a  permanent  embarrassment  in  his  practice 
with  the  rifle. 

But  if  his  aim  was  not  as  true,  his  foot  was 
stealthier  and  he  could  approach  nearer  to  a  wild 
beast  than  any  of  his  white  neighbors  was  ever 
able  to  do. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  world  has  the  art 
of  stealth  been  developed  to  such  perfection  as 
by  the  American  Indian.  To  let  a  brittle  twig 
crack  -beneath  his  foot  in  his  flight  meant  dis- 
grace and  sometimes  death  at  the  hands  of  his 
own  companions.  He  could  follow  a  trail  where 
there  was  no  trail  and  could  conceal  himself 
within  a  yard  or  two  of  his  pursuers. 

Some  of  the  signs  which  he  used  in  the  forest, 
and  which  formed  a  veritable  language,  have 
been  introduced  to  the  Boy  Scouts  of  to-day,  but 
these  are  only  the  A  B  C  of  an  alphabet  whose 
strange  combinations  and  undeciphered  meanings 
are  to-day  a  source  of  interest  and  mystery  in 
the  rocky  caverns  and  mountain  fastnesses  where 
the  Indian  once  made  his  home. 


238  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

We  shall  select  to  represent  the  Indian  race 
in  our  galaxy  of  scouts,  Joseph,  chief  of  the 
Nez  Perce,  not  because  he  was  the  greatest  of 
Indian  scouts,  for  he  was  not  that,  although  he 
was  certainly  remarkable,  but  because  his  story 
forms  a  somewhat  more  or  less  collected  narra- 
tive, and  because,  as  Indians  go,  he  was  a  good 
Indian. 

Moreover,  there  was  a  note  of  pathos  in  Jo- 
seph's employment  of  his  scouting  qualities 
which  adds  a  halo  of  real  heroism  to  his  mem- 
ory. 

When  Lewis  and  Clark  made  their  famous 
expedition  from  St.  Louis  to  the  Pacific  Coast, 
1804-1806,  they  discovered,  in  what  is  now  the 
State  of  Idaho,  a  tribe  of  savages  called  the  Nez 
Perce  Indians.  These  savages  were  kind,  peace- 
able and  hospitable.  They  welcomed  the  strange 
white  men  with  dismay,  but  with  every  evidence 
of  good- will  and  friendship.  It  is  to  the  eternal 
glory  of  Lewis  and  Clark  that  they  never  abused 
such  good- will  in  all  their  wanderings.  The  Nez 
Perce  Indians  continued  the  unwavering  friends 
of  the  white  man  until  about  the  close  of  our 
Civil  War. 

They  were  organized,  as  most  of  the  tribes 
west  of  the  Eocky  Mountains  have  been,  into 
small  tribes,  but  they  had  no  supreme  chief. 

About  the  time  our  Civil  War  was  ending, 
there  appeared  among  the  Nez  Perce  a  man  who 


JOSEPH,   THE    NEZ   PERCE         239 

had  been  appointed  by  onr  Government  as  In- 
dian agent. 

This  agent  was  a  great  busybody,  and  instead 
of  tactfully  devising  means  whereby  the  Indians' 
welfare  might  be  advanced,  he  straightway  set 
about  reforming  their  customs,  abolishing  their 
cherished  superstitions  and  time-honored  cere- 
monies, and  altering  their  social  and  political 
customs.  He  had  a  little  too  much  of  the  mis- 
sionary in  him  to  be  a  good  Indian  agent,  and 
the  results  of  his  meddling  were  disastrous  and 
far-reaching. 

He  thought  it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  the 
Nez  Perce  to  have  a  Grand  Chief,  so  he  assumed 
the  heroic  role  of  king-maker  on  a  small  scale 
and  selected  a  certain  Indian  to  fill  that  post. 
This  chief  had  learned  to  speak  English  at  a 
mission  station,  and  it  was  thought  by  the  Gov- 
ernment representative  that  by  reason  of  this 
accomplishment  he  could  be  easily  controlled. 

The  Nez  Perce  knew  well  enough  that  an  Eng- 
lish-speaking Indian  would  never  make  a  first- 
rate  chief.  But  they  accepted  him  because  they 
were  of  a  peaceful  and  compliant  disposition, 
and  they  waited  patiently  for  him  to  die. 

It  is  said  that  a  watched  pot  never  boils,  and 
this  English-speaking  chief  was  a  long  time  in 
dying.  "When  he  finally  did  die,  the  Nez  Perce 
suggested  to  the  Government  officials  that  they 
would  prefer  a  chief  who  could  not  speak  Eng- 


240  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

lish.  By  way  of  concession,  they  mentioned  that 
they  had  among  them  an  Indian  with  an  English 
name,  Joseph,  and  they  thought  that  might  stand 
in  lieu  of  ability  to  speak  the  English  tongue. 
Joseph  was  a  member  of  one  of  the  most  illus- 
trious families  of  the  tribe,  and  the  father  of 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  Indians  that  has  ever 
lived. 

But  a  second  English-speaking  chief  was 
chosen  by  the  agent  and  old  Joseph  withdrew 
in  disgust  from  the  councils  of  the  Nez  Perce. 
His  proud  old  spirit  was  broken  and  his  dignity 
wounded  by  these  foreign  innovations.  He  never 
ceased  to  claim  the  position  which  his  people 
wished  to  give  him.  How  his  aged  breast  would 
have  beat  with  pride  and  joy  if  he  could  have 
lived  to  see  his  amazing  son  checkmate  and  out- 
maneuver  the  white  men  and  win  the  plaudits 
even  of  his  enemies! 

From  time  immemorial,  the  dwelling-place  of 
the  Nez  Perce  had  been  the  beautiful  Wallowa 
Valley,  famous  for  its  healing  roots,  its  abun- 
dant fishing  and  its  fertile  fields.  Here,  un- 
touched and  untroubled  by  any  of  the  devices 
of  civilization,  they  had  lived  in  peaceful  con- 
tentment. With  the  potent  herbs  of  their  boun- 
tiful home,  they  cured  the  few  ills  from  which 
they  suffered,  and  the  time  ran  on  in  humble 
prosperity  and  happiness. 

Then  began  the  old,  old  trouble.     White  peo- 


JOSEPH,  THE  NEZ  PERCE    241 

pie  began  to  settle  among  them.  As  time  went 
on  these  whites  became  more  numerous  until  at 
last  there  came  a  time  when  they  were  strong 
enough  to  win  the  upper  hand.  They  were  at 
no  great  difficulty  in  devising  measures  to  dis- 
possess the  friendly  savages  of  their  beautiful 
valley.  Soon  came  the  " treaty' '  period,  and  the 
poor  Nez  Perce  found  themselves  putting  their 
marks  to  papers  and  documents  which  had  no 
meaning  to  them  whatever. 

Between  1858  and  1868  several  " treaties"  were 
made  between  these  Indians  and  the  Government 
by  which  the  tribes  were  provided  with  a  reser- 
vation and  some  money  in  lieu  of  their  lands. 

Some  of  the  Indians  who  were  opposed  to  these 
measures  became  known  as  " non-treaty' :  In- 
dians. Old  Joseph  and  his  band  refused  to  go 
upon  the  reservation  and  remained  in  their  an- 
cestral home  in  the  "Wallowa  Valley. 

In  the  year  1871,  the  elder  Joseph  died  in  the 
beloved  valley  which  had  always  been  his  home, 
leaving  his  son  Joseph  as  head  of  his  father's 
band.  The  younger  man,  like  his  father,  denied 
the  right  of  a  portion  of  his  tribe  to  give  up  their 
lands.  Neither  he  nor  his  father  had  signed  any 
treaty  to  that  effect,  and  he  announced  his  in- 
tention of  continuing  to  occupy  tiie  Wallowa 
Valley. 

After  a  while,  settlers  began  to  encroach  on 
the  lands  of  the  non-treaty  Indians.     President 


242  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Grant,  who  sympathized  with  them  and  was 
mindful  of  the  justice  of  their  cause,  tried  to 
prevent  this,  but  it  was  a  very  difficult  thing 
to  prevent.  Finally,  he  yielded  to  pressure  and 
ordered  that  all  of  the  Wallowa  Valley  should 
be  thrown  open  to  settlers. 

Presently  the  settlers  began  to  crowd  the  Nez 
Perce  and  the  poor  Indians  remonstrated.  In 
answer  to  their  protests  they  were  ordered  to 
leave  the  valley  and  go  to  the  reservation.  It 
is  not  pleasant  to  write  and  it  is  not  pleasant 
to  read  such  facts  as  these,  for  they  are  a  sting- 
ing disgrace  to  our  Government.  The  peaceful 
Nez  Perce  Indians  were  to  be  exiled  from  their 
ancient  home. 

It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  they  rebelled 
against  this  ultimatum  and  that  a  great  man 
rose  among  them. 

Young  Joseph  was  tall  and  straight,  his  shoul- 
ders were  broad,  and  he  bore  himself  with  a 
noble  mien.  Long  afterward,  it  was  the  good 
fortune  of  many  to  see  the  Nez  Perce  hero  face 
to  face  at  the  ceremonies  at  the  tomb  of  General 
Grant  in  1897,  when  he  attracted  the  attention 
of  thousands  by  his  magnificent  presence  and  his 
gracious  and  dignified  bearing. 

The  stories  which  are  told  of  Joseph's  early 
days  and  of  his  wanderings  in  the  Bitter  Eoot 
Eange  of  the  Eockies  are  imperfect  records  at 
best,   and  tinged  with   the   shades   of   romance. 


JOSEPH,    THE    NEZ   PERCE         243 

But  from  the  very  existence  of  these  clustering 
local  legends,  we  may  safely  infer  that  his  knowl- 
edge of  mountain  and  valley  and  his  wisdom  of 
wild  life  and  forest  lore  must  have  been  very 
remarkable. 

Once,  when  the  specter  of  famine  stalked 
among  his  people,  he  went  forth  into  the  moun- 
tains in  quest  of  game  and,  having  used  his  last 
arrow  in  a  vain  attempt  to  bring  down  a  bear, 
he  stalked  the  beast  and  fell  upon  it  unarmed, 
strangling    the    monster    after    a    most    terrific 

struggle. 

It  was  said  of  young  Joseph  that  he  could  fol- 
low a  trail  by  scent,  and  though  this  may  be 
doubted,  it  seems  well  established  that  the  most 
infinitesimal  signs  left  by  prowling  creatures 
were  quite  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  follow  their 

trail. 

The  single  hair  of  a  bear  caught  in  the  bark 
of  a  tree  was  a  glaring  signboard  to  him;  he 
could  tell  if  a  tree  had  been  climbed,  even  by 
a  human  being,  months  after  the  act  occurred; 
and  he  never  failed  to  determine  accurately 
whether  stones  in  a  stream  had  been  placed  for 
fording  or  had  come  by  their  positions  naturally. 
A  leaf  along  the  way  was  as  full  of  information 
to  him  as  a  printed  tourist  guide  to  a  modern 
autoist,   and   he   read   the    obscurest   footprints 

with  ease. 

Joseph  decided  that  war  was  the  only  digni- 


244  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

fled  answer  to  the  encroachments  from  which 
his  people  were  suffering. 

It  was  in  vain  that  General  0.  0.  Howard,  in 
command  of  the  Department  of  the  Columbia, 
pleaded  with  the  Government  as  to  the  right- 
eousness of  Joseph's  claim  to  the  Wallowa  Val- 
ley. The  Government  did  not  heed  Howard's 
wise  and  humane  suggestions;  and  Joseph,  who 
had  held  back  for  months  from  a  resort  to  hos- 
tilities in  which  he  was  reluctant  to  engage,  at 
last,  just  before  the  time  fixed  for  driving  him 
from  the  home  of  his  fathers  and  when  the 
soldiers  were  preparing  to  invade  his  domain, 
plunged  into  war. 

About  the  middle  of  June,  1877,  the  country 
was  startled  by  the  announcement  that  the  Nez 
Perce  had  risen  in  Idaho  and  were  on  the  war- 
path. 

Bushing  into  a  little  settlement  near  Fort 
Lapwai,  Joseph's  warriors  and  another  band 
under  White  Bird  murdered  a  score  of  citizens. 
Captain  Perry,  who  was  sent  against  them,  was 
severely  repulsed.  General  Howard  made  a 
forced  march,  and  came  upon  the  Indians  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Cottonwood  Biver,  where,  after 
a  bloody  engagement  in  which  eleven  of  his  men 
were  killed  and  twenty-four  wounded,  he  shelled 
them  from  their  position  and  put  them  to  flight. 

Then  began  the  losing,  but  amazing,  career 
of  Joseph.     Unable  long  to   stand   against   the 


JOSEPH,    THE    NEZ   PERCE         245 

United  States  Regulars,  Joseph,  at  the  head  of 
his  band,  repeatedly  eluded  them  with  masterly 
skill,  and  led  them  a  wild-goose  chase  about  the 
country.  The  Government  officers  were  non- 
plussed at  his  remarkable  sagacity  and  skill. 

The  strange  chase  continued  for  hundreds  of 
miles,  Joseph  keeping  his  women,  children  and 
impedimenta  not  only  intact,  but  beyond  reach 
of  his  pursuers,  who  could  not  but  pause  in 
admiration  of  his  genius. 

They  followed  him  where  they  knew  he  had 
gone,  and  yet  there  was  so  sign  of  his  trail,  not- 
withstanding that  he  led  a  considerable  company 
and  carried  much  baggage. 

Time  and  again  he  doubled  upon  his  tracks, 
picked  up  the  trail  of  his  pursuers,  and  followed 
them  when  they  thought  they  were  following 
him.  Again  and  again  they  followed  his  trail 
until  it  ended  abruptly  and  the  chagrined  and 
bewildered  soldiers  retraced  their  weary  way, 
baffled  and  confounded.  No  one  knew  how  Jo- 
seph contrived  thus  to  terminate  his  tracks 
abruptly  far  from  trees  or  water,  and  no  one 
knows  to  this  day. 

Neither  is  it  known  how  he  crossed  ravines 
which  his  pursuers  found  it  impossible  to  cross. 
Once,  in  a  delusive  moment  of  elation,  the  troop- 
ers came  upon  his  well-defined  tracks  and  fol- 
lowing them  found  that  they  branched  and  that 
these  branches  branched  again  and  again  until 


246  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

there  were  more  branches  than  troopers.  All  of 
them  ceased  abruptly,  showing  no  return  tracks, 
except  one  which  went  straight  to  the  brink  of 
a  chasm  thirty  feet  wide.  There  was  no  sign 
left  of  Joseph  at  the  precipitous  bed  of  the 
cleft. 

Time  after  time  this  master  of  mountain  and 
forest  fooled  the  seasoned  troopers,  leading  them 
on  a  wild-goose  chase  to  some  supposed  haunt 
or  camping  ground  of  his,  where  they  would  find 
the  camp  deserted  and  the  birds  flown.  He  out- 
maneuvered  his  adversaries  so  completely  as  to 
make  them  seem  ridiculous. 

Once  he  lay  concealed,  almost  in  the  path, 
waited  until  the  troopers  had  passed,  then  went 
back  and  finished  some  game  which  they  had 
left  and  which  he  knew  they  had  procured  from 
having  heard  their  shots.  Thus  he  fed  his  fam- 
ishing party. 

In  this  singular  chase  Joseph  showed  himself 
a  master  of  every  ruse  which  could  be  used  to 
baffle  and  deceive  pursuers.  To  say  that  this 
fleeing  Nez  Perce  was  a  pathfinder  and  a  scout 
seems  paradoxical,  but  in  the  course  of  the  run- 
ning game  he  employed,  first  and  last,  about 
every  item  of  knowledge,  every  trick,  every  sign, 
every  resource  known  to  scouts;  he  exhibited  a 
familiarity  with  every  ingenious  form  of  forest 
strategy  known  to  savage  and  civilized  man  alike, 
end  a  foresight  and  calculation  of  his  enemy's 


JOSEPH,  THE  NEZ  PERCE    247 

probable   moves   which   was   nothing   less    than 
phenomenal. 

At  last  the  little  band,  headed  by  Joseph, 
passed  through  the  mountains  of  northern  Mon- 
tana, where  they  were  confronted  by  General 
Miles  with  some  regular  troops.  Even  then 
Joseph  could  not  be  brought  to  battle,  but  skil- 
fully crossed  the  Missouri,  under  the  very  eye 
of  his  enemy,  and  escaped. 

At  length,  however,  his  camp  was  surrounded 
in  the  Bear  Paw  Mountains  and  the  brilliant 
savage  was  brought  to  bay.  It  has  been  always 
so  with  the  red  man;  his  prowess  has  brought 
him  only  humiliation  in  the  end;  his  brilliant 
triumphs  have  marked  the  inevitable  pathway 
to  defeat.  We  can  recall  no  instance  of  an  In- 
dian's sagacity  and  ability  and  almost  triumph 
in  which  one  could  more  heartily  wish  him  vic- 
tory than  in  the  case  of  Joseph  the  Nez  Perce 
— scout,  trailer,  leader,  and  pathfinder  of  the 
first  order. 

Joseph  fought  with  great  bravery  and  with  a 
regard  for  civilized  methods  which  surprised  and 
won  the  admiration  of  his  adversaries. 

Of  course,  he  was  defeated.  Holding  his  head 
high  and  stepping  forward  with  dignified  bear- 
ing to  where  General  Howard  was  sitting  on  his 
horse,  the  Indian  handed  up  his  rifle. 

"I  am  tired  of  fighting,  I  am  tired  of  the 
warpath,''  he  said.    "Our  chiefs  are  killed.    My 


248  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

old  friend  Looking  Glass  is  dead.  The  old  men 
are  all  dead.  It  is  the  young  men  who  say  yes 
or  no.  He  who  led  on  the  young  men  is  like 
one  dead.  It  is  cold  and  we  have  no  blankets. , 
The  little  children  are  freezing  to  death.  I  want 
to  have  time  to  look  for  my  children  and  see 
how  many  of  them  I  can  find.  Maybe  I  shall 
find  them  among  the  dead.  I  am  tired.  My 
heart  is  sick  and  sad.  Hear  me,  my  chiefs! 
From  where  the  sun  now  stands  I  shall  fight 
no  more  forever." 

General  Howard  greatly  admired  the  chival- 
rous warrior,  whose  fine  pride  touched  him 
deeply.  Joseph  had  conducted  his  whole  cam- 
paign from  beginning  to  end  with  rare  skill  and 
without  any  of  the  outrages  and  cruelties  which 
Indians  at  war  had  usually  perpetrated. 

The  General  took  his  hand  and  promised  to 
be  his  friend.  He  had  always  sympathized  with 
the  noble  chief  and  his  friendly,  ill-treated  na- 
tion, and  he  regretted  his  country's  mistaken 
course. 

Howard  proved  as  good  as  his  word  and  se- 
cured for  Joseph  and  his  followers  a  favorable 
location  where  they  might  live  in  at  least  partial 
contentment,  and  perchance  forget  their  wrongs. 

Joseph  lived  among  his  people,  honored  and 
beloved  as  was  his  due,  until  at  last  he  passed 
to  the  happy  hunting  ground  which  is  the  dream 
of  the  red  man. 


JOSEPH,  THE  NEZ  PERCE    249 

He  was  by  no  means  the  greatest  Indian  nor 
perhaps  even  entitled  to  a  place  with  Tecumseh, 
Pontiac  and  Philip.  He  had  not  Tecumseh 's  or 
Pontiac's  qualities  of  statesmanship  nor  Philip's 
prowess  as  a  warrior.  But  he  was  a  better 
woodsman  and  tracker  than  either  of  them;  and 
if  familiarity  with  untamed  nature,  and  a  faculty 
for  making  it  yield  its  secrets  while  preventing 
it  from  divulging  one's  own,  are  prime  requisites 
of  the  scout,  then  Joseph  the  Nez  Perce  was  a 
scout  pre-eminent. 

Unfortunately,  like  most  Indians,  Joseph  kept 
no  journal  of  his  adventures  and  lacked  a  biog- 
rapher. So  there  has  been  no  one  to  sing  his 
praises,  and  his  brilliant  light  has  been  hidden 
under  a  bushel.  Only  the  rocks  and  caverns, 
the  mountain  ravines  and  plains  and  winding 
streams  where  he  fled  and  hid  and  baffled  his 
pursuers,  know  the  secrets  of  the  ruses  which 
he  used  to  puzzle  and  weary  them,  and  these 
wild  and  rugged  witnesses  of  his  amazing  skill 
are  as  silent  now  as  when  they  kept  his  secrets 
for  him  in  the  days  when  his  fate  hung  in  the 
balance. 


OLD    JOHN    SMITH 

How  lie  ran  away  and  joined  the  Indians;  how  he  made  an 
adventurous  trip  across  the  plains;  of  his  fights  with 
the  red  men;  of  his  dubious  reputation  in  the  West; 
and  more  particularly  of  the  single  occasion  on  which 
he  flinched  and  lost  control  of  himself  entirely. 

The  name  of  John  Smith,  however  much  it 
may  infest  telephone  and  city  directories  and  be 
met  with  in  every  nook  and  cranny  of  prosy 
civilized  life,  is  withal  a  valorons  name,  and  one 
which  has  struck  terror  to  the  hearts  of  red  men 
from  an  early  period  of  our  history. 

Of  the  two  doughty  heroes  who  have  borne 
this  cognomen,  it  is  difficult  to  make  a  choice 
for  presentation  in  our  group  of  scouts.  The 
halo  of  romance  which  overhangs  the  famous 
captain  of  the  Jamestown  settlement  and  his 
dusky  Pocahontas  has  never  lost  its  charm. 

But  we  shall  cast  our  choice  in  favor  of  old 
John  Smith  of  the  Plains,  because  there  is  that 
flavor  of  the  woolly  West  about  him  which  most 
boys  find  so  engaging.  Moreover,  there  is  an 
abundance  (or,  as  he  was  himself  fond  of  say- 
ing, an  dbundacious  quantity)  of  anecdote  in  his 
altogether  amazing  career.  He  always  began  his 
reminiscences  by  lighting  his  pipe  with  an  ember 

250 


OLD    JOHN    SMITH  251 

from  the  camp-fire  and  saying:  "Boys,  if  I  don't 
disremember,  it  was  back  in  tlie  forties,  etc., 
etc."  He  always  said  Injuns  and  varmints  and 
critters,  and  was  in  all  ways  a  typical  plains- 
man. 

We  believe  lie  killed  more  Indians  than  any 
other  scout  of  the  West.  He  abhorred  Mexicans. 
He  said  they  were  always  praying  and  swearing. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  eccentric  and  interesting 
characters  of  the  old  trail  days  and  was  famous 
from  Kansas  to  the  Rockies  as  a  hunter,  trapper 
and  guide. 

We  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain  with  cer- 
tainty when  old  John  was  born,  but  he  himself 
said  that  he  was  a  youngster  "back  in  '26,"  so 
we  may  infer  that  he  was  born  about  1810.  The 
place  of  his  birth  is  uncertain  also,  and  the  best 
we  can  do  is  to  state  it  in  the  terms  used  to 
announce  the  arrival  and  departure  of  vessels 
in  the  present  great  war  by  saying  that  he  was 
born  "somewhere"  in  Missouri. 

In  any  event,  wherever  his  parental  abode  was, 
he  ran  away  from  it  when  he  was  very  young 
and  gravitated  naturally  to  the  fraternity  of 
traders  whose  adventurous  lives  were  spent  along 
the  Old  Trail  from  the  Missouri  to  Santa  Fe  in 
New  Mexico. 

So  susceptible  was  he  to  the  beguilements  of 
savage  life  that  we  soon  find  him  hobnobbing 
with  the  Blackfoot  Indians.     Finding,  however, 


252  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

that  his  own  life  was  frequently  endangered  by 
their  domestic  quarrels,  he  decided  to  take  np 
his  abode  with  a  more  peaceable  tribe,  the  Sioux. 
If  he  considered  the  Sioux  peaceable  by  compar- 
ison we  can  only  say  that  we  should  not  have 
cared  to  live  long  among  the  Blackfoots. 

But  old  John  (he  was  young  John  then)  did 
not  remain  long  with  the  gentle  Sioux,  for,  the 
adventurous  vicissitudes  of  his  life  taking  him 
among  the  Cheyennes,  he  became  enamored  of  a 
dusky  maiden  of  that  tribe  and  married  her. 

Notwithstanding  his  adventurous  and  wander- 
ing propensities,  his  heart  became  thus  perma- 
nently anchored,  and  throughout  the  long  period 
of  his  life  he  remained  a  faithful  and  loving 
husband  to  his  Cheyenne  bride. 

Not  only  that,  but  the  Cheyennes  adopted  him, 
and  much  of  his  after  life  was  spent  among  them. 
"When  his  trapping  and  hunting  days  were  over 
and  the  innovation  of  the  steel  rails  gave  him 
some  respite  from  his  old  occupation  of  scout 
and  guide,  he  settled  down  among  his  wife's 
people  and  became  a  power,  not  only  in  their 
councils,  but  throughout  the  whole  length  and 
breadth  of  the  plains.  He  became  very  wealthy, 
as  wealth  was  counted  on  the  prairies,  as  an 
owner  of  horses,  and  we  regret  to  say  that  as 
he  grew  old  he  was  unable  to  withstand  the 
temptations  of  prosperity  and  power. 

He  became,   indeed,   a   rapacious    old   rascal, 


OLD   JOHN    SMITH  253 

exacting  tribute  like  the  Barbary  pirates  and 
enforcing  his  demands  for  graft  (for  that  is  the 
short  and  ugly  word  which  applies)  by  the  whole 
power  of  his  savage  horde.  He  had  a  voice  in 
every  bargain,  and  few  travelers  or  Mexicans 
were  able  to  conclude  a  transaction  without  old 
John's  having  something  to  say  about  it  and 
reaping  an  outrageous  profit  for  himself. 

When  traders  came  among  the  Cheyennes  they 
were  forced  to  sell  their  goods  at  old  John's 
price,  and  if  that  were  not  satisfactory  they 
were  ordered  to  leave  them  as  tribute  instead 
of  their  scalps.  Travelers,  meeting  him  on  the 
trail,  discreetly  asked  his  permission  to  proceed, 
or  to  shoot  buffaloes,  or  to  corral  in  the  vicin- 
ity, which  permission  he  usually  granted  for  a 
consideration. 

So  notorious  became  his  unscrupulous  power 
that  the  governor  of  New  Mexico  offered  a  re- 
ward of  $500  for  his  capture.  But  there  was 
none  who  cared  to  challenge  the  anger  of  the 
Cheyennes,  and  old  John  went  merrily  on,  super- 
intending horse  trades,  exacting  lawless  tribute, 
and  receiving  peace  bribes  until  his  high-handed 
effrontery  became  a  veritable  scandal  even  in  the 
free  and  easy  life  of  the  plains. 

He  died  in  the  full  glory  and  exercise  of  his 
autocratic  powers,  having  lived  in  such  terms  of 
intimacy  with  the  Cheyennes  that  he  had  become 
almost  an  Indian  in  his  manners  and  customs 


254  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

— and  assuredly  in  his  viewpoint,  which  was  that 
might  makes  right. 

Yet  there  was  a  time  in  the  life  of  this  re- 
doubtable old  robber  when  the  mere  sight  of  a 
little  orphan  boy  caused  him  to  weep.  Nay,  even 
in  later  years  the  memory  of  a  little  bird  chirp- 
ing innocently  on  the  barrel  of  his  rifle  filled  him 
with  tenderness  and  gratitude. 

He  was  altogether  a  queer  old  codger. 

Throughout  his  life,  even  in  the  days  of  his 
retirement,  old  John  occasionally  acted  as  guide 
and  interpreter  to  army  detachments.  About 
the  camp-fire  he  always  maintained  his  auto- 
cratic demeanor.  When  Uncle  Sam's  soldiers 
asked  him  for  a  yarn  he  would,  as  often  as  not, 
contemplate  them  with  haughty  disdain,  blowing 
the  smoke  from  his  atrocious  old  pipe  in  their 
faces,  and  vouchsafing  never  a  word. 

But  there  were  times  when  he  condescended, 
though  seldom  upon  request,  to  rake  among  his 
adventures.  On  these  occasions  he  would  por- 
tentously remove  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
scarcely  would  the  promising  words,  "Boys,  if 
I  don't  disremember,"  be  uttered,  when  there 
would  be  a  veritable  stampede  in  his  direction 
and  dead  silence  would  reign  among  his  audi- 
tors as  he  poured  forth,  amid  volumes  of  smoke, 
random  memories  of  his  more  active  days. 

Let  us  recast  from  his  own  inimitable  narra- 
tive one  or  two  of  the  surprising  episodes   of 


OLD    JOHN    SMITH  255 

his  life  which  we  can  only  hope  that  he  did  not 
"disremember." 

It  was  about  the  year  1845  (if  he  didn't  dis- 
remember)  that  he  and  three  companions,  Cur- 
tis, Thorpe  and  Comstock,  were  returning  from 
the  Eockies,  where  they  had  been  hunting  and 
trapping  for  three  years.  "Thar  weren't  no 
roads  nor  nuthin'  in  them  days — nuthin'  but  the 
Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  and  Injuns  and  varmints." 

They  were  bringing  back  a  goodly  stock  of 
pelts  and  were  camping  along  the  trail  at  a  spot 
known  as  Point  of  Bocks,  when  a  suspicious 
snort  from  one  of  the  mules  convinced  the  saga- 
cious trappers  that  Indians  were  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  grasp  their  rifles, 
and  very  shortly  the  appalling  sound  of  shots 
farther  down  the  trail  confirmed  their  suspicions 
that  something  was  amiss.  Old  John  made  no 
bones  of  expressing  his  annoyance  that  this  grim 
duty  called  just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  light- 
ing his  pipe  for  a  good  smoke,  and  we  may  infer 
that  it  did  not  altogether  dissipate  his  irritation 
to  perceive  that  all  the  pother  of  shots  and  shout- 
ing was  caused  by  an  attack  of  Pawnees  on  a 
Mexican  bull  train. 

John  hated  the  greasers  with  an  ardent  hatred, 
but  the  fighting  took  on  a  new  color  to  him  when 
he  saw  three  American  people — a  man,  a  woman, 
and    a   little   boy — jumping   frantically   from   a 


256  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

wagon  which  the  Indians  had  succeeded  in  iso- 
lating from  the  train  and  attempting  to  escape 
from  the  savages  who  practically  surrounded 
them. 

Before  the  trappers  had  a  chance  to  intervene 
the  Pawnees  had  caught  and  scalped  the  man 
and  carried  off  the  woman.  The  terrified  little 
boy  was  scampering  as  fast  as  he  could  to  reach 
the  comparative  safety  of  the  caravan  with  a 
mounted  Indian  in  hot  pursuit  of  him,  when  Al 
Thorpe,  one  of  the  four  scouts,  "drawed  up  his 
gun  and  took  the  red  cuss  off  his  critter  without 
the  paint-bedaubed  devil  knowin'  what  struck 
him!" 

Good  for  Al  Thorpe! 

The  little  boy  made  straight  for  his  rescuers 
and  they  took  him  to  the  main  body  of  the  car- 
avan and  laid  him  gently  in  one  of  the  wagons. 

Old  John  observes,  with  significant  contempt, 
that  he  and  his  companions  now  took  matters 
into  their  own  hands,  corraling  the  oxen  of  the 
bewildered  greasers,  for  "if  there  was  to  be 
more  fighting,"  he  adds,  "we  know'd  we  Ameri- 
cans would  have  to  do  it,  as  them  Mexican  bull- 
whackers  weren't  much  account,  nohow,  except 
to  cavort  around  and  swear  in  Spanish,  which 
they  hadn't  done  nuthin'  else  since  we'd  come 
up  to  the  train.  ..." 

In  a  little  while  the  Pawnees,  having  rallied 
for  a  pow-wow,  returned  in  full  force  and  with 


OLD    JOHN    SMITH  257 

deafening  yells,  to  receive  the  surprise  of  their 
lives.  One  after  another  they  were  picked  off 
their  ponies  by  Smith  and  his  comrades,  who 
had  constituted  themselves  the  protectors  of  the 
whole  caravan.  Old  John  recalls  with  great  rel- 
ish how  not  a  single  one  of  their  shots  was 
wasted,  and  their  unerring  marksmanship  must 
have  surprised  the  greasers  quite  as  much  as  it 
confounded  the  Pawnees,  who,  dismayed  at  their 
losses,  soon  decided  that  discretion  was  the  bet- 
ter part  of  valor  and  rode  off  to  the  sandhills. 

Smith  and  his  comrades,  having  decided  to 
cast  their  lot  with  the  hapless  Mexicans  (since 
their  destination  was  the  same),  piloted  them 
safely  eastward  without  further  adventure  for 
the  time  being. 

In  those  days  we  see  Uncle  John  at  his  best, 
not  only  as  a  scout,  but  as  guardian  of  the  little 
boy  who  had  been  deprived  of  his  parents.  No 
one  dared  to  dispute  his  claim  to  the  little  fellow 
who  came  to  have  a  genuine  affection  for  the 
rough  plainsman  and  an  unbounded  admiration 
for  his  bravery. 

The  relations  of  these  two  form  a  very  pretty 
story,  embedded  like  a  jewel  in  the  rude  setting 
of  that  stormy  progress  eastward  over  the  hot, 
Indian-infested  plains.  All  that  was  tender  in 
the  grim,  rough  scout  came  to  the  surface,  as 
it  seldom  did  later.  He  watched  over  the  little 
orphan  like  a  mother,  amusing  him  and  telling 


258  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

him  stories,  and  teaching  him  to  fish  and  hunt, 
so  that  the  strangely  assorted  pair  became  boon 
companions. 

Ten  days  later  they  had  another  run-in  with 
Indians. 

"It  seemed  like  we  hadn't  been  asleep  more 
than  an  hour  when  me  and  Thorpe  was  called 
to  take  our  turn  on  guard.  "We  got  out  of  our 
blankets,  I  putting  little  Paul  into  one  of  the 
wagons,  then  me  and  Thorpe  lighted  our  pipes 
and  walked  around,  keeping  our  eyes  and  ears 
open,  watching  the  heavy  fringe  of  timber  on 
the  creek  mighty  close,  I  tell  you.  Just  as  day- 
light was  coming  we  noticed  that  our  mules, 
what  was  tied  to  a  wagon  in  the  corral,  was 
getting  oneasy.  .  .  .  Before  I  could  say  to 
Thorpe,  'Them  mules  smells  Injuns,'  half  a 
dozen  or  more  of  the  darned  cusses  dashed  out 
of  the  timber,  yelling  and  shaking  their  robes, 
which  waked  up  the  whole  camp. 

"Me  and  Thorpe  sent  a  couple  of  shots  after 
them  that  scattered  the  devils  for  a  minute;  but 
we  hadn't  hit  nary  one  because  it  was  too  dark 
yet  to  draw  a  bead  on  'em." 

We  can  readily  believe  that  there  was  some 
good  reason  for  the  failure  to  hit  the  mark. 
Soon  it  became  light  enough  to  "get  a  bead  on 
'em,"  and  then  there  were  doings  indeed. 

"Just  as  they  circled  back  we  poured  it  into 
'em,   killing   six   and   wounding   two.  .  .  .  Well, 


OLD    JOHN    SMITH  259 

boys,  them  varmints  made  four  charges  before 
we  could  get  shet  (rid)  of  them,  but  we  killed 
as  many  as  sixteen  or  eighteen  and  they  got 
mighty  sick  of  it  and  quit." 

We  can  easily  believe  that  also,  and  they  were 
wise  Indians.  The  measure  of  their  success  was 
one  dead  Mexican  (which  counted  for  nothing 
with  old  John)  and  an  arrow  wound  in  the  arm 
of  Thorpe. 

"I  was  amused  at  little  Paul,"  John  goes  on 
to  say,  "all  the  time  the  scrimmage  was  going 
on.  He  stood  up  in  the  wagon  where  I'd  put 
him,  a-looking  out  of  the  hole  where  the  sheet 
was  drawed  together,  and  every  time  an  Indian 
was  tumbled  off  his  pony,  he  would  clap  his 
hands  and  yell,  '  There  goes  another  one,  Uncle 
John!'" 

In  good  time  the  train  reached  Independence, 
the  eastern  terminus  of  the  Old  Trail,  near  Kan- 
sas City,  "with  no  more  trouble  of  no  kind," 
Smith  remarks.  "We  should  say  they  had  had 
their  full  share! 

Here  the  four  trappers  sold  their  pelts  "and 
had  more  money  than  they  knowed  what  to  do 
with."  Howbeit,  old  John  "knowed"  what  to 
do  with  some  of  his,  for  he  took  little  Paul  about 
among  the  shops  of  that  romantic  frontier  com- 
munity and  bought  him  a  pony  and  had  a  sump- 
tuous outfit  of  buckskin  made  for  him  from  the 
pelt  of  a  black-tailed  deer  which  he  had  shot  in 


260  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

the  Eockies.  "The  seams  of  his  trousers  were 
heavy  fringed,"  and  he  must  have  been  a  proud 
youngster  as  he  trotted  about  with  his  redoubt- 
able guardian,  who  was  the  observed  of  all  ob- 
servers even  in  that  motley  community  of  trad- 
ers, frontiersmen,  trappers,  Mexicans  and  the 
like. 

They  saw  no  more  of  the  greaser  bull  train, 
nor  was  any  trace  or  hint  found  as  to  who  little 
Paul  was  or  where  he  belonged.  The  child  could 
tell  nothing  himself  and  seemed  to  have  but  one 
desire  in  life,  viz.,  to  remain  with  "Uncle  John" 
and  fight  Indians.  The  little  fellow  made  a  great 
impression  among  the  people  of  the  town  and 
several,  who  must  have  been  exceptionally  cour- 
ageous, had  the  hardihood  to  propose  to  "Uncle 
John"  that  they  adopt  the  child.  He  did  not 
"get  a  bead"  on  these  imprudent  philanthro- 
pists as  one  might  have  expected,  but  he  "al- 
lowed if  there  was  going  to  be  any  adopting 
done  I'd  do  it  myself,  'cause  the  kid  seemed 
now  jes'  like  he  wuz  my  own." 

After  a  stay  of  several  months  in  Indepen- 
dence, Smith,  Curtis  and  Thorpe  bought  a  prairie 
wagon  and  new  outfits  and  joined  a  large  cara- 
van bound  for  Mexico,  intending  to  leave  the 
company  when  they  reached  the  Rockies  and 
repair  to  their  wonted  fastness  in  the  mountains, 
for  hunting  and  trapping. 

With  what  eager  anticipations  must  little  Paul 


OLD   JOHN   SMITH  261 

have  viewed  these  delectable  preparations  for 
their  long  adventurous  journey  and  their  roman- 
tic sojourn  in  the  wild  retreats  of  the  great 
range !  How  the  little  fellow  must  have  counted 
the  days  to  the  momentous  hour  of  departure 
when  they  bade  good-bye  to  their  former  com- 
rade, Comstock  (whom  they  never  heard  of 
again),  and  turned  their  faces  once  more  to 
the  great  plains. 

We  may  indulge  a  pleasant  vision  of  that  long 
journey  in  the  new  covered  wagon  and  imagine 
little  Paul  a  favorite  in  the  big  caravan  with  its 
seventy-five  mule  teams  and  its  miscellaneous 
traveling  community.  It  must  have  had  all  the 
romantic  delights  of  following  the  circus,  and 
we  can  picture  the  rough  old  trapper  happy  in 
the  company  of  his  little  ward  in  sombrero  and 
buckskin,  fishing,  hunting,  telling  yarns,  with  al- 
ways a  wTeather  eye  out  for  "Injuns." 

The  caravan  must  have  been  too  imposing  in 
its  size  to  encourage  Indian  attack  and  the  long 
train  made  an  uneventful  journey  across  the 
plains,  until  at  the  end  of  a  month  they  pulled 
up  at  Bent's  Fort,  along  the  headwaters  of  the 
Arkansas  in  the  foothills  of  the  Rockies. 

Here,  in  the  wild  country  about  the  famous 
trading-post,  they  camped  for  the  night — a  night 
destined  to  be  a  momentous  one  in  the  life  of 
old  John  Smith. 

We  shall  let  him  tell  of  it  himself,  just  as  he 


262  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

is  reported  to  have  told  it  to  his  comrades  years 
later,  for  there  is  a  note  of  pathos  in  his  nar- 
rative which  we  cannot  reproduce. 

"I  knowed  they  had  cows  up  to  the  Fort,  so 
jest  before  we  wuz  ready  fer  supper  I  took  Paul 
(he  could  never  leave  Paul  behind)  and  started 
to  see  if  we  couldn't  get  some  milk  fer  our 
coffee.  It  wuzn't  far,  and  we  wuz  camped  a 
few  hundred  feet  from  the  gate,  jest  outside  the 
wall.  Well,  we  went  into  the  kitchen,  Paul  right 
alongside  of  me,  and  thar  I  seen  a  white  woman 
Ieanin'  over  the  adobe  hearth  a-cooking — they 
had  always  only  been  squaws  before.  She  nat- 
urally looked  up  to  find  who  wuz  comin'  in,  and 
when  she  seen  the  kid,  all  at  once  she  give  a 
scream,  dropped  the  dish-cloth  she  had  in  her 
hand,  made  a  break  for  Paul,  throwed  her  arms 
around  him,  nigh  upsetting  me,  and  says,  while 
she  was  a-sobbing  and  taking  on  dreadful,  'My 
boy!  Oh,  my  little  boy!'  Then  she  kind  of 
choked  again  while  Paul,  he  says  as  he  hung 
on  to  her,  'Oh,  mamma!  Oh,  mamma!  I  knowed 
you'd  come  back!' 

"I  jest  walked  outer  that  kitchen  a  heap  faster 
than  I  come  into  it  and  shut  the  door.  When 
I  got  outside  fer  a  few  minutes  I  couldn't  see 
nothin',  like." 

Poor  old  John  Smith!  When  we  think  of  him 
back  with  his  dusky  squaw  among  those  wily, 
grasping    Cheyennes,    squeezing    his    ill-gotten 


OLD   JOHN    SMITH  263 

gains  out  of  every  barter,  lording  it  over  trader 
and  greaser  with  an  iron  hand  and  sinking  ever 
lower  in  the  scale  of  dishonor,  we  must  try  to 
divert  our  thoughts  for  a  moment  to  the  picture 
of  the  rough  old  fellow  going  about  in  old  In- 
dependence with  the  trusting  hand  of  little  Paul 
in  his  own  scarred  old  paw,  buying  him  ponies 
and  goodness  knows  what  not,  and  happy  in  the 
little  fellow's  company. 

And  with  this  pleasanter  picture  in  our  minds, 
we  shall  let  him  pass  on  in  his  lonesome  journey 
westward  to  the  mountains  which  he  knew  so 
well.  He  had  many  more  adventures  and  we 
shall  meet  him  again  in  the  story  of  another 
scout,  but  we  do  not  know  of  any  other  occasion 
when  he  flinched  and  ' '  couldn  't  see  nuthin ',  like. ' ' 

The  story  of  Mrs.  Dale's  (for  that  was  little 
Paul's  name)  escape  from  her  Pawnee  captors 
is  remarkable.  Choosing  a  favorable  opportu- 
nity, she  had  selected  the  fastest  pony  they  had 
and  ridden  it  forty  miles  until  she  fell  exhausted 
by  the  trail,  where  she  was  picked  up  in  an 
almost  dying  condition  by  a  caravan.  This  train, 
on  its  progress  westward,  had  paused  at  Bent's 
Fort,  where,  finding  Indian  women  employed, 
Paul's  mother  had  asked  for  work  in  the  kitchen, 
intending  to  bide  her  time  until  a  caravan  should 
stop  there,  whose  leaders  she  could  trust  to  take 
her  to  St.  Louis. 

' ' Next  morning,"  says  Uncle  John,  "our  car- 


264  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

avan  went  on  to  Mora,  and  after  we'd  bid  good- 
bye to  Mrs.  Dale  and  Paul,  before  which  I  give 
the  boy  two  hundred  dollars  for  his  self,  me, 
Thorpe  and  Curtis  pulled  out  with  our  team 
north  fer  Frenchman's  Creek  and  I  never  felt 
so  miserable  like  before  nor  since  as  I  did  part- 
ing with  the  kid  that  morning." 

High  up  through  the  rocky  passes  the  old  trail 
ran  and  wound  away  into  the  haunts  of  the  mink 
and  the  beaver  and  through  the  dim  fastnesses 
where  the  grizzly  made  his  home.  We  can  fancy 
that  we  see  the  lumbering  old  wagon  climbing 
those  heights  which  frown  upon  the  old  fort  of 
the  Bents — farther,  farther,  and  still  farther 
into  the  solemn  depths  of  the  hunting  and  trap- 
ping grounds,  until  it  became  a  mere  speck  in 
the  distance. 


RUBE  STEVENS 

How  he  was  captured  by  the  Indians;  how  they  treated  him 
and  how  he  made  his  escape;  of  his  long  ride  and  how 
he  fell  in  with  friends  in  need  and  became  their  com- 
panion; of  his  grim  resolve,  of  his  life  as  a  scout  and 
hunter,  and  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  encounters 
with  Indians  in  the  history  of  the  West. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Rube  Stevens  —  Little 
Rube,  they  called  him — that  he  fell  in  with  old 
John  Smith  just  when  he  did;  for  not  only  did 
Uncle  John  materially  assist  in  saving  Rube's 
life,  but,  what  is  more  (or  rather  less),  he  re- 
counted Rube's  adventures  for  him — a  thing 
which  Rube  could  not  possibly  have  done  for 
himself,  for  he  had  no  tongue  with  which  to 
do  it! 

Rube  did  not,  as  so  many  of  the  Western  scouts 
and  trappers  did,  set  out  with  the  intention  of 
becoming  a  man  of  the  plains  and  mountains. 
The  number  of  boys  who  ran  away  from  home 
in  the  old  caravan  days  was  almost  appalling, 
and  it  sometimes  seems  to  the  student  of  west- 
ern and  frontier  history  that  the  schools  in  St. 
Louis  might  just  as  well  have  been  closed  at 
times,  as  they  are  in  these  more  prosaic  days 
in  deference  to  an  epidemic. 

265 


266  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

But  Eube  Stevens  did  not  run  away  to  join  a 
mule  train.  He  was  born  about  1827  on  a  farm 
in  Pennsylvania,  where  the  years  of  his  early 
youth  were  passed.  When  he  was  about  seven- 
teen his  parents  decided  to  move  to  Oregon, 
where  his  father  had  taken  up  a  claim. 

When  we  reflect  that  to  the  average  stay- 
at-home  person  a  trip  across  the  continent  is 
regarded  as  something  of  an  adventure  even  to- 
day, we  can  fancy  with  what  romantic  anticipa- 
tions the  Pennsylvania  farmer's  boy  contem- 
plated such  a  journey  something  less  than  a 
century  ago,  and  what  visions  of  buffaloes  and 
stage-coaches  and  Indians  must  have  filled  his 
young  mind. 

Alas,  young  Eube  Stevens  was  destined  never 
to  see  his  father's  claim  in  Oregon.  The  little 
family  made  the  usual  tedious,  thirst-haunted 
pilgrimage  across  the  plains,  as  a  part  of  one 
of  the  large  caravans.  They  had  reached  the 
Bitter  Root  Valley  in  the  region  which  is  now 
Idaho  and  were  encamped  within  sight  of  the 
Bitter  Root  Mountains,  beyond  the  gray  and 
rugged  heights  of  which  lay  the  promised  land, 
when  the  caravan  was  attacked  by  a  band  of 
Blackfoot  Indians  and  every  single  member  of 
the  train  was  massacred  except  Rube  himself. 

Why  they  spared  the  boy,  who  was  then  scarce 
seventeen,  is  not  known.  It  is  not  uncommon 
to  read  that  this  or  that  hero  who  became  fa- 


KUBE    STEVENS  267 

mons  on  the  plains  or  in  the  Kentucky  back- 
woods was  the  only  one  spared  in  some  whole- 
sale massacre,  and  we  can  hardly  avoid  the  con- 
viction that  a  special  Providence  watched  over 
them  in  consideration  of  the  great  things  they 
were  born  to  accomplish. 

However  this  may  be,  young  Bube's  life  was 
spared,  and  he  was  taken  captive.  For  a  while 
the  Indians  kept  him  as  a  slave;  then,  on  the 
suspicion  that  he  intended  to  make  a  dash  for 
liberty,  they  cut  out  his  tongue!  Just  how  they 
expected  that  this  would  prevent  him  from  es- 
caping is  not  explained,  but  it  is  known  that 
the  squaws  and  Indian  maidens  had  both  pitied 
and  befriended  the  young  captive,  and  it  is  not 
improbable  that  the  observant  braves  appre- 
hended that  the  soft  hearts  of  their  women  folk 
would  melt  completely  at  the  boy's  entreaties 
to  them  to  connive  at  his  escape. 

A  prisoner  who  is  popular  with  the  fair  daugh- 
ters of  his  captors  need  not  look  too  despairingly 
upon  his  shackles  and  the  jailer's  key. 

The  Blackfoot  women,  unable  to  prevent  this 
cruel  treatment  of  young  Stevens,  constituted 
themselves  his  willing  nurses  and  so  skilfully 
treated  his  wound  that  but  for  the  loss  of  speech 
(a  great  loss,  indeed!)  the  boy  suffered  no  per- 
manent ill  effects  from  his  mutilation. 

As  you  may  suppose,  when  the  Blackfoot 
braves  perceived  that  young  Stevens'  frightful 


268  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

handicap  only  increased  the  tender  regard  of 
the  Indian  damsels,  they  were  very  angry.  Dis- 
mayed at  these  unlooked-for  caprices  of  the  fe- 
male heart,  they  visited  their  jealous  wrath  upon 
the  boy,  until  the  poor  dumb  fellow  resolved  that 
he  would  escape  or  sacrifice  his  unhappy  life  in 
the  trying. 

It  was  more  than  a  year,  however,  before  the 
chance  came,  and  when  it  did  come  it  was  Mars, 
the  god  of  war,  and  not  the  gentle  goddess  of 
compassion,  that  connived  at  his  escape. 

It  befell  that  the  Blackfoot  tribe  had  a  mighty 
battle  with  the  ferocious  Sioux  during  which 
the  Blackfoot  braves  were  so  engrossed  with 
their  prodigious  deeds  of  valor  that  they  did  not 
notice  the  dumb  boy  who,  mounting  the  fleetest 
pony  they  had,  rode  off  to  freedom  while  the 
sanguinary  conflict  was  at  its  height. 

But,  after  all,  who  can  say  that  the  Blackfoot 
damsels  had  not  suggested  this  and  were  not 
accessories  before  the  fact? 

All  night  long  and  all  the  next  day  Rube  rode 
like  mad.  He  had  a  few  odds  and  ends  of  food 
which,  even  in  his  haste,  he  had  not  forgotten 
to  bring,  and  partaking  sparingly  of  these  he 
managed  to  subsist  for  several  days. 

He  did  not  know  where  he  was  going  and  he 
did  not  care,  so  long  as  he  got  away  from  his 
captors.  He  felt  that  the  width  of  the  continent 
was  not  too  much  to  separate  him  from  those 


EUBE    STEVENS  269 

bloodthirsty  savages,  and  he  continued  to  ride, 
though  with  less  frantic  haste,  day  in  and  day 
out,  until  at  last  he  was  cheered  by  the  sight  of 
a  queer  little  structure  built  against  a  ledge  of 
rock  in  a  very  wild  region. 

He  was,  in  fact,  in  Colorado,  and  must  have 
ridden  more  than  three  hundred  miles — a  dis- 
tance which  seems  considerable  as  we  think  of 
it  now,  but  which  was  nothing  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  mountains  and  the  wide  plains.  We  read 
of  a  plainsman  going  to  visit  such  and  such  a 
place  as  if  it  were  around  the  corner,  and  when 
we  look  it  up  on  the  map  we  find  it  to  be  several 
hundred  miles  away.  The  game  was  played  on 
a  large  board  in  the  old  caravan  days. 

The  structure,  the  sight  of  which  thus  glad- 
dened the  heart  of  Eube  Stevens,  was  a  small 
ramshackle  affair  about  ten  feet  high  with  a  hole 
in  the  roof  in  lieu  of  a  door — a  precautionary 
feature  of  Eocky  Mountain  architecture,  intend- 
ed to  strengthen  the  half  cabin,  half  dugout, 
against  Indian  attack.  There  was  a  small  win- 
dow, scarcely  more  than  a  peek-hole,  in  one  of 
the  exposed  sides.  It  was  a  typical  hunter's 
shelter,  of  which  there  were  not  a  few  in  the 
Eockies  in  those  days. 

The  sound  of  voices  within  emboldened  Eube 
to  approach,  not  without  some  trepidation  lest 
he  might  find  himself  in  the  fire  after  escaping 
from  the  frying  pan.    But  luck  favored  him  and 


270  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  two  redoubt- 
able men  in  buckskin,  Al  Boyd  and  Bill  Thorpe 
by  name,  both  of  whom  were  widely  famous  as 
scouts,  trappers  and  guides.  Thorpe  has  al- 
ready been  mentioned  as  one  of  the  companions 
of  John  Smith  in  our  story  of  that  old  hickory 
nut  of  a  scout. 

These  men  received  the  poor  dumb  youth  with 
all  the  bluff  hospitality  which  the  wide  plains 
and  lonely  mountains  seemed  to  inspire  and 
which  was  such  a  fine  feature  of  the  rough  life 
of  the  West. 

The  destiny  of  the  boy  seemed  now  pretty 
well  assured,  and  under  the  care  and  tutelage 
of  this  experienced  pair  he  began  his  career  as 
a  mountain  man  and  scout  of  the  prairies. 

Tie  became,  however,  that  dangerous  thing — 
a  man  with  a  grievance.  As  he  grew  older  and 
came  to  realize  more  and  more  the  dastardly  act 
which  had  deprived  him  of  the  birthright  of 
speech,  he  made  a  grim  resolve  that  he  would 
never  leave  the  prairies  where  he  had  been  or- 
phaned and  cruelly  mutilated,  and  that  he  would 
consecrate  his  life  to  the  killing  of  Indians, 
and  woe  to  the  Blackfoot  who  should  cross  his 
path ! 

The  better  to  carry  out  his  grim  resolve,  he 
practiced  marksmanship  with  such  avidity  and 
application  that  he  became  uniquely  famous  as 
a  crack  shot,  even  among  his  steady-handed  and 


EUBE    STEVENS  271 

steady-eyed  companions.  "Praise  from  Sir  Hu- 
bert is  praise  indeed,"  and  even  Thorpe,  famous 
himself  as  a  rifleman,  said  that  the  equal  of  Rube 
Stevens  did  not  exist  in  all  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  plains. 

These  three  remained  together  and  became 
partners  and  close  friends.  They  penetrated  far 
up  into  the  haunts  of  the  beaver  and  the  mink, 
where  they  trapped  and  hunted,,  carrying  their 
stock  of  valuable  pelts  eastward  from  time  to 
time,  and  falling  in  with  pack  trains,  where  they 
were  always  welcome  as  traveling  companions 
and  guides. 

Timorous  sojourners  along  the  lonely  trail 
which  wound  through  the  mountains  and  across 
the  dry,  wind-swept  prairies  to  the  frontier  set- 
tlements on  the  Missouri,  heard  of  the  silent, 
keen-eyed  Rube  and  waited  and  watched  for  him 
and  felt  reassured  in  his  company.  Many  were 
the  pack  trains  which  he  piloted  past  the  perils 
of  Pawnee  Rock  and  other  places  of  shuddering 
memory;  and  frightful  was  the  blood  tribute 
which  this  silent  scout  exacted  from  Pawnees 
and  Comanches — and  Blackfeet  when  his  wan- 
derings took  him  into  their  haunts. 

Once,  after  a  journey  up  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountains,  Thorpe,  Boyd  and  Stevens  returned 
to  their  little  shelter  among  the  rocks,  and  began 
trapping  in  the  vicinity.  It  was  winter  and  the 
weather  was  very  cold.    One  day  Rube  went  out 


272  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

along  a  neighboring  stream  to  examine  the  traps 
which  had  been  laid  at  intervals  for  several  miles 
along  the  banks,  while  Boyd  and  Thorpe  went 
in  another  direction  hunting  for  deer. 

After  attending  to  the  traps  Eube  pressed  on 
to  a  spot  where  the  stream  widened  and  began 
to  fish  through  a  hole  in  the  ice. 

Boyd  had  just  brought  down  a  deer  and  was 
stooping  over  it  when  Thorpe  called  to  him: 

"Drop  everything,  Al,  and  make  for  the  dug- 
out!   Look  there  !" 

One  glance  showed  Boyd  that  a  large  band  of 
Sioux  Indians  was  almost  upon  them. 

"If  we  can  only  get  to  the  cabin,"  panted 
Al  as  they  ran  with  all  their  might,  "we  can 
keep  off  the  whole  tribe." 

Scarcely  had  he  said  the  words  when  Eube 
came  running  toward  them  with  an  Indian  close 
upon  his  heels.  He  had  neglected  to  take  his 
rifle  when  he  went  to  examine  the  traps;  but 
Bo}*d  had  not  forgotten  his  and,  raising  it  with 
characteristic  deliberation,  he  interrupted  the  In- 
dian's premature  yell  of  triumph  and  sent  the 
savage  sprawling  upon  the  rocks. 

Eunning  desperately,  the  three  men  reached 
the  cabin,  where  they  made  ready  to  put  up 
what  defence  they  could  against  the  yelling  horde 
which  was  following  them. 

Spying  through  the  hole  in  the  side,  Thorpe 
was  able  to  count  no  less  than  thirty  warriors 


RUBE    STEVENS  273 

clamoring  about  the  little  shelter  like  so  many 
demons. 

The  predicament  of  the  three  hunters  was 
desperate  in  the  extreme.  The  number  of  In- 
dians appeared  to  make  their  ^success  certain, 
but  the  awful  fate  which  confronted  the  three 
made  them  resolve  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly 
as  possible. 

"Off  with  your  coats,"  said  Thorpe,  grimly. 
"We'll  get  along  better  if  they -have  nothing  to 
lay  hold  on  but  our  naked  bodies.' ' 

Indeed,  every  slight  advantage  counted  in  that 
encounter  against  -such  fearful  odds.  "It  ain't 
goin'  ter  be  no  boys'  play,"  Thorpe  observed  as 
he  stripped  himself,  and  assuredly  he  was  right. 

For  such  a  desperate  defence,  however,  the 
shelter  was  well  constructed.  There  was  no 
means  of  ingress  save  the  hole  in  the  roof 
through  which  but  one  at  a  time  could  enter. 
Beneath  this  Rube  grimly  took  his  stand,  axe 
in  hand,  ready  to  brain  the  savages  as  fast  as 
they  appeared. 

By  this  time  the  rifle  shot  of  the  Sioux  was 
hailing  upon  the  logs  of  -the  little  shack  "like 
rain  on  a  tent,"  as  Thorpe  said.  Presently,  a 
stealthy  movement  could  be  heard  upon  the  roof 
and  a  copper  face  peered  down  through  the 
opening.  Instantly  Thorpe's  rifle  brought  the 
prowler  tumbling  into  the  little  room. 

Another  Indian  tried  to  squeeze  through  the 


274  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

tiny  window  in  the  side  and  presently  became 
wedged  in  the  opening,  being  unable  either  to 
advance  or  withdraw.  Thorpe  took  a  beaver 
trap  and  beat  out  his  brains  with  it. 

Finding  these  tactics  unavailing,  several  of 
the  Indians  clambered  onto  the  roof  and  began 
to  tear  off  the  logs.  Standing  upon  a  box  so 
that  his  chest  was  above  the  opening,  Rube 
felled  two  with  his  axe  and  these,  together  with 
a  couple  of  logs  and  another  Indian,  fell  sprawl- 
ing into  the  room.  The  two  whom  Rube  had 
struck  were  dead,  and  he  now  despatched  the 
other. 

" Let's  see,  that  leaves  twenty-five,  I  reckon, 
don't  it?"  queried  Boyd. 

It  was  hard  keeping  tabs. 

Rube  now  discovered  that  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  chief  of  the  band  (whom  he  distin- 
guished by  his  war-paint)  was  descending 
through  the  larger  opening  which  his  braves 
had  made,  and  he  assisted  him  down,  intending 
to  finish  him  on  the  floor.  A  fearful  tussle 
ensued  between  the  chief  and  Rube  Stevens, 
while  Boyd,  creeping  near,  sought  for  an  op- 
portunity to  stab  the  Sioux  without  endanger- 
ing the  life  of  his  friend,  for  the  two  combat- 
ants w^ere  mixed  up  together  like  a  pair  of 
infuriated  tigers.  At  last  Rube  himself  man- 
aged to  get  out  his  hunting-knife  and  put  an 
end  to  his  adversary. 


RUBE    STEVENS  275 


j  j 


"Twenty-four,  ain't  it?"  Thorpe  asked. 

"Thirty,    and   six  out,   twenty-four's    right, 
said  Boyd. 

They  used  the  body  of  the  chief  to  plug  up 
the  hole  in  the  side.  "That's  'bout  all  he's  good 
fer,"  said  Thorpe. 

The  Indians  outside,  perceiving  now  that  their 
attempts  to  enter  the  cabin  were,  to  say  the 
least,  fraught  with  great  hazard,  began  another 
rain  of  rifle  shot  which  fell  harmlessly  upon  the 
logs. 

"If  we  ony  hed  some  more  dead  Injuns,"  said 
Thorpe,  "we  cud  build  a  reg'lar  breastwork. 
"We  need  two  more,  I  reckon,  to  plug  up  that 
thar  gap,"  he  added,  pointing  to  a  break  the 
Sioux  had  made  close  to  the  little  window. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  wish,  two  Indians,  more 
courageous  than  their  companions,  started  to  let 
themselves  down  through  the  roof.  Instantly 
Boyd,  who  is  represented  as  a  perfect  giant, 
grappled  them  by  their  throats,  one  with  either 
hand,  and  strangled  them  until  they  fell  dead 
upon  the  floor. 

"Eight  out  leaves  twenty- two,"  said  Thorpe, 
as  Rube  and  Boyd  stuffed  the  two  bodies  into 
the  gap. 

But  now  the  savages,  finding  the  little  cabin 
to  be  a  veritable  death-trap,  hit  on  the  expedient 
of  setting  it  on  fire,  and  the  hope  which  the 
three  had  entertained  of  killing,  or  at  least  dis- 


276  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

couraging,  their  yelling  assailants  was  turned 
almost  to  despair  as  they  realized  the  purpose 
of  the  enemy. 

"Thar's  ony  one  thing  to  do,  boys,"  said 
Thorpe;  "we  got  to  get  outer  this.  You  f oiler 
me!" 

The  shelter  was  becoming  enveloped  in  flames, 
while  the  shrieking  Sioux  surrounded  it,  gloat- 
ing over  the  certain  capture  of  the  hunters. 

The  three  men  sallied  forth,  each  carrying  his 
rifle  in  one  hand  and  his  hunting-knife  in  the 
other,  and  their  appearance  was  the  signal  for 
such  a  savage  war-whoop  as  seemed  to  rend  the 
heavens.  Instantly  they  were  surrounded  and, 
though  Eube  was  quick  enough  to  shoot  one  of 
them,  it  did  no  good  and  onlv  served  to  still 
further  infuriate  the  others. 

The  three  were  made  prisoners  and  Thorpe 
and  Boyd,  tied  back  to  back,  were  bound  to  a 
tree,  while  Eube  was  lashed  separately  to  an- 
other one.  Some  of  the  Indians  then  began  to 
gather  sticks,  which  ominous  preparations  even 
the  hardened  scouts  must  have  contemplated  with 
dismay. 

There  is  a  report,  which  must  have  passed  the 
lips  of  at  least  several  persons  before  it  was 
finally  written  down,  of  the  conversation  be- 
tween Boyd  and  Thorpe  as  they  waited,  lashed 
back  to  back  and  tied  to  the  tree.  Probably  it 
is  fairly  accurate. 


KUBE    STEVENS  277 

"What  are  they  going  ter  do  with  us?"  asked 
Thorpe. 

"Boast  us,  you  bet,"  Boyd  replied.  "They'll 
find  me  tough  enough,  I  reckon." 

"It  must  be  a  painful  sort  of  death,"  Thorpe 
observed 

"Wall,"  said  Boyd,  "it  ain't  exactly  what  yer 
would  call  the  most  pleasant  sort  of  one,  but 
wot  the  devil  are  they  doin'  ter  poor  Rube?" 

Eube  was  tied  to  a  tree  about  a  hundred  feet 
distant,  and  as  Thorpe  craned  his  neck  and  pain- 
fully strained  his  eyes  in  that  direction  he  could 
see  an  Indian  dancing  about  the  young  fellow 
(Rube  was  still  not  twenty-one)  and  brandishing 
a  tomahawk.  In  the  face  of  this  appalling  dem- 
onstration Rube  observed  a  calm  demeanor,  never 
flinching,  but  gazing  with  a  scowl  upon  the  men- 
acing savage. 

In  this  interval  of  waiting  and  preparation 
several  Indians  who  had  disappeared  returned 
to  the  scene  dragging  the  carcass  of  the  deer 
which  Boyd  had  shot  just  before  the  attack  be- 
gan. This  they  proceeded  to  make  ready  for 
cooking,  kindling  a  fire  the  while,  and  as  if  the 
harrowing  fate  which  awaited  their  victims  were 
not  enough,  the  savages,  with  a  refinement  of 
cruelty  equal  to  that  of  a  submarine  commander, 
proceeded  to  cook  and  to  gorge  themselves  with 
savory  morsels  of  the  animal  which  the  hungry 
trio  had  intended  for  their  own  repast. 


278  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

For  more  than  an  hour  the  three  captives  wit- 
nessed this  artistic  variation  of  savage  torture, 
inhaling  the  luscious  aroma  wafted  to  them  from 
the  cheerfully  crackling  blaze,  which  bore  also  the 
appalling  remainder  of  their  own  impending  fate. 

The  Indians  stood  about,  chatting  as  they  ate 
the  toothsome  morsels,  with  anticipatory  relish 
of  the  entertainment  which  was  to  follow,  when 
suddenly  a  series  of  sharp  reports  rent  the  air. 

The  buffet  lunch  came  to  a  sudden  end  as  the 
astonished  savages  beheld  seven  of  their  number 
lying  dead  upon  the  ground. 

Scarcely  had  they  recovered  from  their  sur- 
prise when  another  volley  rang  out  and  seven 
more  of  the  feasters  dropped,  their  portions  of 
venison  flying  into  the  air.  In  another  minute 
a  half-dozen  men  in  buckskin  emerged  from  the 
forest,  who,  with  hunting-knives  and  clubbed 
rifles  proceeded  to  work  havoc  among  the  few 
remaining  savages.  Several  of  them  were  killed 
in  hand-to-hand  combat,  and  the  others,  seeing 
that  their  only  hope  lay  in  escape,  stole  away, 
leaving  the  carcass  of  the  deer  still  cooking  for 
the  refreshment  of  their  assailants. 

Conspicuous  among  these  timely  rescuers  was 
the  burly  form  of  John  Smith,  scout  and  trap- 
per, whom  we  have  already  met.  He  tells  how 
one  of  his  companions,  Ike  by  name,  having  killed 
three  Indians  with  one  shot,  observed,  as  they  un- 
fastened Thorpe  and  Boyd, 


EUBE    STEVENS  279 

"I  always  like  ter  git  two  or  three  of  the  red 
devils  in  line  before  I  pull  the  trigger — it  saves 
lead." 

We  should  like  to  have  known  Ike;  there  can 
be  no  words  but  those  of  praise  for  his  worthy 
spirit  of  economy. 

The  astonishment  an^  relief  of  the  three 
captives,  who  were  now  set  free,  cannot  well 
be  described,  and  there  are  few  who  would  be- 
grudge them  the  savory  banquet  which  by  a 
tantalizing  fate  they  had  won,  then  lost,  and 
now  won  again. 

No  longer  did  the  savory  aroma  torment  them; 
the  entire  party  gathered  about  the  fragrant  fire 
and  fell  to  with  a  relish  while  Uncle  John  ex- 
plained how  he  and  his  companions  had  happened 
upon  the  scene. 

"  'Bout  a  mile  down  the  creek,"  said  he,  "me 
and  six  other  trappers  had  a  camp,  and  this 
morning,  bein'  scarce  of  meat,  we  all  went  a- 
hunting.  We  had  killed  two  or  three  elk,  and 
was  'bout  goin'  back  to  camp  with  our  game, 
when  we  heard  firing  and  supposed  it  was  a 
party  of  hunters  like  ourselves,  so  we  did  not 
pay  any  attention  to  it  at  first;  but  when  it  kept 
up  so  long  and  there  was  such  a  constant  volley, 
I  told  our  boys  it  might  be  a  scrimmage  with  a 
party  of  red  devils  and  we  concluded  to  go  and 
see." 

After  a  while  they  came  in  sight  of  a  camp- 


280  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

fire  in  the  distance,  and  John  and  one  of  his 
companions  crept  cautiously  in  advance  of  their 
friends  to  reconnoiter.  What  they  discovered 
was  the  very  scene  which  we  have  described. 
The  shots  which  had  aroused  them  to  investi- 
gate must  have  been  those  of  the  encounter  be- 
tween the  three  men  in  the  hut  and  the  Sioux. 

At  the  sight  of  Thorpe  and  Boyd  and  Stevens 
lashed  to  the  two  trees  with  fagots  lying  at  their 
feet  and  the  Indians  regaling  themselves  in  an- 
ticipation of  their  entertainment,  Smith  and  his 
comrade  lost  no  time  in  retracing  their  way  to 
their  companions  where,  in  a  hasty  council,  their 
course  was  decided  upon. 

So  the  luscious  carcass  of  the  deer  was  des- 
patched with  great  relish  by  its  rightful  owners 
and  their  welcome  guests ;  and  if  the  feast  lacked 
the  gracious  accompaniment  of  genial  converse, 
it  was  not  because  there  was  nothing  to  talk 
about.  Uncle  John  tells  us  that  the  whole  party 
went  back  to  his  and  his  companions'  camp, 
where  they  "made  a  night  of  it,"  so  we  may 
infer  that  they  knew  how  to  celebrate  good  for- 
tune and  timely  deliverance  from  peril. 

It  would  add  a  touch  of  piquancy  to  this  re- 
markable episode  if  we  could  picture  the  es- 
caping Sioux  as  wandering  famished  in  the 
Rockies  with  the  haunting  aroma  from  the  crisp 
and  luscious  deer  forever  assailing  their  nostrils. 

But  there  is  no  ground  for  placing  any  such 


EUBE    STEVENS  281 

moral  top-knot  upon  our  tale.  Already  the  whole 
affair  smacks  rather  suspiciously  of  the  dime 
novel.  But  in  plain  fact  it  occurred,  substan- 
tially as  described,  and  constitutes  another  of  the 
many  instances  in  which  truth  is  indeed  stranger 
than  fiction.  If  this  matchless  gem  of  adventure 
in  its  fine  wild  west  setting  had  been  embodied  in 
a  story  for  boys  we  may  be  sure  that  it  would 
have  been  diluted  by  much  heroic  and  extrava- 
gant talk  and  its  actors  made  ridiculous  as 
Boone  and  Custer  and  Cody  and  Carson  and 
Sitting  Bull  and  all  the  rest  of  them  have  been 
made  ridiculous,  by  having  put  into  their  mouths 
vaporing  speeches  which  they  would  never  have 
uttered. 

The  subsequent  life  of  our  hero,  Eube  Ste- 
vens, was  adventurous  to  a  degree.  Thorpe  was 
later  killed  by  the  Indians  and  Boyd  disappears 
from  notice.  Very  likely  he  withdrew,  as  many 
of  his  ilk  did,  into  the  hunting  grounds  of  the 
Eockies,  there  to  live  out  his  days  and  die  in 
the  remote  obscurity  of  those  mighty  heights. 

Eube  was  seen  thereafter  upon  the  plains, 
where  he  acted  as  guide  and  scout  for  many 
caravans  and  more  than  one  exploring  party. 
Much  of  what  we  know  about  the  scouts  of  the 
great  West  is  gleaned  from  their  own  verbal 
reminiscences,  bandied  about  in  camp  or  corral 
and  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  until  it  has  filtered 
into  our  literature  and  history. 


282  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

But  Bube  Stevens  was  the  silent  scout,  for  he 
could  not  talk.  However,  Uncle  John  did  his 
talking  for  him,  and  next  to  one's  own  tongue 
we  should  say  that  Uncle  John's  was  about  the 
best  procurable  for  purposes  of  friendly  remi- 
niscence. If  we  were  a  hero  we  should  much 
prefer  to  commit  ourselves  to  Uncle  John's  keep- 
ing than  to  that  of  the  average  modern  story- 
teller, after  whose  ingenious  treatment  we  should 
probably  have  great  difficulty  in  recognizing  our- 
selves and  our  most  chivalrous  deeds. 


GENERAL  GEORGE  A.  CUSTER 

How  he  became  a  romantic  figure  in  the  Civil  War  and 
of  his  picturesque  followers;  how  he  became  an  Indian 
fighter  and  pursued  the  Cheyennes,  together  with  the 
particulars  of  how  he  put  an  end  to  the  outrageous 
career  of  Black  Kettle,  and  how  he  lost  his  life  fight- 
ing the  Sioux. 

Among  the  picturesque  heroes  in  our  history 
General  George  A.  Custer  must  be  counted  one 
of  the  most  conspicuous  and  striking.  He  had 
that  quality  which  is  called  dashing  and  he  meas- 
ures up  in  all  ways  to  the  artistic  requirements 
of  romance. 

He  was  the  typical  Indian  fighter,  as  Robin 
Hood  was  the  typical  outlaw.  Dame  Nature 
(who  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  these  things 
and  has  always  a  fine  eye  for  effect)  saw  to  it 
that  General  Custer  was  generously  equipped 
with  the  features  which  befitted  his  role. 

He  was  of  a  noble  presence,  with  eagle  eye 
and  flowing  hair  and  the  gracefully  drooping 
mustache  which  only  heroes  should  wear.  His 
mien,  as  he  sat  upon  his  gallant  charger,  was 
nothing  less  than  magnificent.  In  appearance 
he  had  only  one  rival,  and  that  was  Buffalo  Bill. 

Though  a  soldier  of  the  army,  he  affected  the 

283 


284  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

buckskin  costume  of  the  scout.  He  was  a  famil- 
iar and  engaging  picture  about  the  romantic 
camp-fire,  and  the  latter  part  of  his  splendid 
career  was  so  closely  identified  with  Indians  and 
the  woolly  "West  that  he  seems  the  very  incarna- 
tion of  adventure. 

He  was  the  kind  of  hero  who  was  always 
having  horses  killed  under  him  and  holes  shot 
through  his  hat.  How  many  horses  suffered  this 
fate  it  would  be  hazardous  to  say,  but  in  the  fic- 
tion which  tells  of  Custer  the  number  runs  very 
high.  History  places  it  somewhat  lower.  Nor 
would  he  venture  an  estimate  as  to  how  many 
holes  were  shot  through  his  picturesque  som- 
brero, but  they  were  certainly  enough  to  venti- 
late it. 

Volumes  have  been  written  about  General  Cus- 
ter. His  widow  wrote  several,  and  with  these  as 
a  basis  innumerable  stories  have  been  concocted 
representing  him  as  a  marvel  of  dashing  prowess. 
He  was  undoubtedly  a  very  brave  and,  alas,  a 
very  reckless  man. 

"White  Chief  with  Long  Hair,"  as  the  Indians 
called  him,  was  born  in  Ohio  on  the  5th  of  De- 
cember, 1839,  so  that  he  was  only  thirty-seven 
years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  tragic  death — a 
period  all  too  short,  one  would  say,  for  so  much 
adventurous  accomplishment ! 

His  early  years  were  spent  on  the  farm  of  his 
parents  and  he  received  a  good  education,  com- 


GENERAL    GEORGE    A.     CUSTER 


GENERAL    GEORGE   A.    CUSTER     285 

pleting  his  studies  at  the  Hopedale  Normal  School 
in  Ohio.  When  he  was  twenty-eight  years  old 
he  was  appointed  to  the  Military  Academy  at 
West  Point,  where  four  years  later  he  graduated 
with — you  thought  I  was  going  to  say  with  high 
honors.  Nothing  of  the  kind,  for  he  graduated 
at  the  foot  of  his  class. 

But  he  was  not  at  the  foot  of  his  class  in  the 
grim,  hard  school  of  the  Civil  War,  where  his 
hat  received  its  first  honored  puncture.  During 
the  winter  of  1862,  while  he  was  awaiting  orders 
to  active  service,  he  won  his  first  triumph  in  the 
hand  of  Elizabeth  Bacon — a  true  affinity  if  ever 
there  was  one,  for  she  accompanied  her  husband 
in  his  adventurous  campaigning  in  the  West, 
sharing  all  of  the  hardships  and  many  of  the 
perils  of  the  rough  camp  life.  The  pair  were 
not  married,  however,  until  1864,  when  the  proud 
young  groom  introduced  the  innovation  of  taking 
his  young  bride  with  him  to  his  headquarters  in 
the  field. 

Before  that,  in  June  of  1863,  Custer  was  ap- 
pointed a  brigadier-general  of  volunteers.  He 
soon  won  a  unique  fame  in  the  army  as  "the  boy 
general  with  the  golden  locks,"  and  a  romantic 
figure  he  must  have  been,  confirming  by  his  ready 
gallantry  the  high  opinion  which  his  comrades 
of  every  rank  had  formed  of  him.  He  was,  in- 
deed, a  most  captivating  young  man,  with  his 
flowing  locks  and  his  reckless  bravery. 


286  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

In  October,  1864,  when  he  was  only  twenty-five 
years  old,  he  was  made  a  major-general  of  vol- 
unteers, his  promotion  being  the  direct  conse- 
quence of  his  bravery,  and  he  was  the  youngest 
man  in  the  army  to  hold  that  rank. 

It  was  as  "commander  of  the  Third  Division 
of  Cavalry  that  Custer's  fame  spread  in  the 
army.  His  men,  who  seemed  unable  to  resist 
the  charm  of  his  personality  and  the  contagion 
of  his  dashing  mien,  imbibed  the  spirit  of  their 
leader  and  unconsciously  assumed  his  manner. 
They  wore  their  hair  long,  they  affected  cavalier 
hats  like  his,  and  flaunting  red  scarfs  which 
trailed  in  the  wind  with  a  fine  abandon  as  they 
galloped  along. 

Truly,  a  motley  outfit,  with  all  the  dash  and 
glamor  of  the  valorous  knights  of  old;  and  if 
the  setting  had  been  the  ancient  Wars  of  the 
Koses  instead  of  our  own  great  civil  strife,  young 
Custer  and  his  cavalry  would  hardly  have  been 
out  of  place. 

We  must  not  follow  the  history  of  this  heroic 
little  band  as  it  galloped  through  the  Civil  War. 
Eleven  horses  (verified)  were  shot  under  General 
Custer  and  his  hat,  it  is  reported,  became  a 
veritable  colander.  In  six  months  he  captured 
over  a  hundred  pieces  of  artillery,  sixty-five 
battle  flags  and  more  than  ten  thousand  pris- 
oners. During  this  time  he  did  not  once  meet 
with  defeat. 


GENEEAL   GEORGE   A.   CUSTER     287 

He  was  the  most  daring  raider  that  ever 
crossed  an  enemy's  lines.  He  loved  danger  and 
was  always  ready  to  take  his  life  in  his  hands. 
He  fought  from  Bull  Kim  to  Appomattox  with 
tireless  energy  and  with  a  spirit  that  knew  no 
fear,  and  when  the  end  was  in  sight  it  was  he, 
and  appropriately  he,  who  received  the  flag  of 
truce  with  the  momentous  tidings  that  General 
Lee  was  at  last  ready  to  surrender. 

At  the  close  of  the  Civil  "War  the  "boy  gen- 
eral' '  was  ordered  with  a  division  of  cavalry 
to  Texas.  The  next  year  his  gallant  service  was 
rewarded  by  promotion  to  the  rank  of  major- 
general  in  the  regular  army,  a  distinction  indeed 
for  a  young  man  not  yet  past  his  twenty- seventh 
year ! 

"We  must  now  follow  this  gallant  young  man 
in  his  headlong  career  to  the  field  where  his  ac- 
tivities bring  him  more  especially  within  the 
compass  of  our  plan. 

Most  of  the  brief  accounts  of  Custer  (and  in- 
deed there  should  be  no  brief  accounts  of  such 
a  man)  deal  almost  exclusively  with  the  cam- 
paign which  terminated  his  meteoric  career,  and 
his  adventurous  life  upon  the  plains  prior  to  that 
time  has  been  neglected. 

In  1866  his  career  as  a  typical  scout  and  In- 
dian fighter  may  be  said  to  have  begun  when 
he  was  ordered  to  Kansas  with  his  famous  Sev- 
enth Cavalry  to  check  the  Indians  who  had  been 


288  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

conducting  a  very  carnival  of  crime  and  depre- 
dation, scalping  men,  kidnapping  women  and 
children,  stealing  horses,  attacking  stage-coaches, 
burning  ranches,  and  carrying  things  generally 
with  a  high  hand. 

In  all  this  bloody  game  only  eleven  Indians 
had  been  killed  when  Custer  rode  upon  the  scene. 
It  was  winter  and  it  was  not  the  habit  of  the 
Indians  to  exert  themselves  greatly  in  that  sea- 
son. Neither  was  it  the  habit  of  Custer  to  sit 
around  and  wait  for  spring. 

The  army  was  encamped  in  the  Indian  Terri- 
tory and  General  Sheridan  was  in  command  of 
the  Department.  A  plan  was  formed  by  which 
Custer  should  lead  his  men  southward  on  a  scout- 
ing expedition,  while  Sheridan  himself  should 
explore  the  country  north  and  west  -as  soon  as 
he  could  get  his  larger  force  in  condition  to 
march. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  on  November 
23rd,  the  thermometer  in  camp  stood  at  ten 
below  zero  and  the  tents  were  almost  buried  un- 
der a  blinding  snowstorm.  Not  very  propitious 
weather,  one  would  -say,  in  which  to  scout  for 
obstreperous  Indians. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this?"  General  Sher- 
idan asked,  as  the  beautiful  snow  descended 
upon  him. 

"Fine!"  said  Custer.  "Couldn't  be  better. 
We  can  move,  but  the  Indians  can't." 


GENERAL    GEORGE   A.    CUSTER     289 

General  Sheridan  beat  his  ears  and  shook  his 
head  and  said  nothing.     lie  knew  Custer. 

After  a  hasty  breakfast  the  indomitable  Cus- 
ter and  his  troopers,  looking  more  like  a  group 
of  arctic  explorers  than  a  scouting  party,  rode 
forth  into  the  furious  blizzard,  while  the  army 
band  played  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me. 

With  the  aid  of  a  pocket  compass  Custer  led 
his  troopers  through  wind  and  snow  with  the 
blinding  hurricane  beating  in  their  faces.  It  is 
surprising  that  this  extraordinary  march  is  not 
more  famous  than  it  is,  for  it  was  certainly  a 
most  remarkable  one. 

All  through  the  morning  they  plodded  on  knee- 
deep  in  snow,  across  the  vast,  wind-swept  plains. 
The  guides,  returning,  pleaded  that  they  could 
not  possibly  lead  the  troops,  but  the  intrepid 
Custer,  depending  only  upon  his  little  compass, 
pressed  on. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  they  made  camp,  kin- 
dled a  fire,  and  proceeded  to  prepare  dinner. 
At  night  they  corraled  their  equipment  and  were 
off  -again  early  in  the  morning. 

On  the  second  day  there  was  some  abatement 
of  the  storm  but  the  cold  continued,  and  as  the 
sturdy  troopers  plodded  on  their  sufferings  were 
intense. 

There  is  no  wind  like  the  wind  of  the  plains. 
Unconfined  and  unobstructed  it  pursues  its  mad 
career,  tearing  up  the  sand  in  summer  and  the 


290  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

snow  in  winter,  and  assailing  the  wayfarer  with 
unprecedented  fury. 

In  such  surroundings  the  troopers  passed 
Thanksgiving  Bay,  pausing  long  enough  to  eat 
their  scanty  fare,  which  must  have  been  a  dis- 
mal reminder  of  the  festive  celebration  of  their 
friends  at  home. 

At  last,  after  untold  hardships,  they  reached 
the  Canadian  Kiver.  Here  General  Custer  de- 
tached a  small  body  of  troops  to  follow  up  the 
stream  and  scout  for  Indians  while  he,  with  his 
main  force,  crossed  to  the  opposite  side  and 
continued  their  march. 

The  river  was,  of  course,  frozen,  but  the  ice 
was  not  thick  enough  to  bear  the  weight  of  the 
wagons,  so  they  were  forced  to  break  the  surface 
here  and  there  until  they  found  a  place  which 
they  could  ford. 

The  crossing  of  the  frozen  Canadian  by  Custer 
and  his  men  rivals  "Washing ton's  famous  cross- 
ing of  the  Belaware.  Scarcely  had  they  reached 
the  opposite  shore  when  a  man  on  horseback 
approached  them  at  breakneck  speed,  who  proved 
to  be  a  scout  of  the  small  body  which  Custer 
had  sent  up  the  river. 

This  man  brought  tidings  which  fell  like  a 
bombshell  among  the  troopers.  He  reported  that 
Major  Elliott,  who  was  in  command  of  the  small 
party,  had  discovered  a  trail  in  the  snow  which 


GENERAL    GEORGE   A.    CUSTER     291 

coiild  not,  he  believed,  be  more  than  twenty-four 
hours  old. 

Custer  sent  the  scout  back  posthaste  with  or- 
ders that  the  trail  be  followed  until  evening, 
when  the  party  should  camp  and  await  his  ar- 
rival. He  then  directed  his  men  to  leave  the 
wagons  and  baggage  in  charge  of  a  small  guard 
and  follow  him  with  as  much  expedition  as  pos- 
sible to  the  spot  where  the  trail  had  been  dis- 
covered.    Custer  himself  started  immediately. 

The  troopers,  divested  of  everything  except 
absolute  necessities,  were  soon  in  his  wake  and 
ere  long  the  indomitable  leader  and  his  resolute 
men  were  upon  the  trail  which  Major  Elliott  had 
discovered.  Hour  after  hour  they  followed  it 
through  the  deep  snow,  and  it  was  long  after 
dark  when  they  reached  the  camp  of  Elliott  and 
his  men.  They  found  it  to  be  in  a  deep  ravine, 
and  here,  effectually  concealed  and  fairly  well 
sheltered,  the  reunited  troopers  made  their  even- 
ing repast  of  hardtack  and  coffee. 

As  soon  as  they  had  rested  and  the  moon  had 
risen  they  took  up  the  trail,  plodding  on  through 
the  snow,  until  Little  Beaver,  the  general's  In- 
dian scout,  came  back  in  great  excitement  to  say 
that  he  smeiled  fire.  On  this  report  Custer  with 
several  scouts  hurried  on  in  advance  and  dis- 
covered upon  an  eminence  in  the  distance  what 
appeared  to  be  the  unextinguished  remains  of  a 
camp-fire.     For  a  time  there  was  great  excite- 


292  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

ment  among  the  little  advance  party  and  hope 
ran  high;  but  it  was  soon  discovered  that  the 
light  was  merely  from  the  embers  of  a  plains- 
man's fire. 

Still  Custer  and  his  scouts  pressed  cautiously 
forward,  the  main  body  of  troopers  following 
at  a  distance.  The  next  night  one  of  his  scouts 
discovered  smoke  in  the  distance  and  shortly 
they  could  hear  voices,  thin  and  spent,  which 
convinced  them  that  they  were  approaching  a 
considerable  encampment  of  Indians.  Anxiously 
they  awaked  the  morning. 

They  had,  indeed,  almost  overtaken  a  formid- 
able band  of  Cheyenne s,  under  command  of  the 
redoubtable  scoundrel,  Black  Kettle,  whose  name 
should  have  been  Black  Soul,  for  if  ever  there 
was  a  fiend  incarnate  Black  Kettle  was  that  in- 
dividual. The  catalogue  of  his  bloody  crimes 
would  have  shocked  old  Sitting  Bull,  who  wTas 
no  saint,  and  would  have  excited  the  jealous 
envy  of  King  Philip. 

This  was  the  band  that  Custer  was  after. 
This  was  the  unspeakable  wretch,  the  thought 
of  whose  possible  capture  had  inspired  the  gal- 
lant .trooper  through  those  miles  of  wind  and 
snow. 

There  he  was,  comfortably  ensconced  in  a  val- 
ley, the  cheery  smoke  from  his  camp-fire  rising 
in  the  clear,  cold  air,  and  the  numerous  little 
cone-shaped  tepees  of  his  camp  plainly  visible. 


GENERAL    GEORGE    A.    CUSTER     293 

Delighted  at  this  successful  termination  of  his 
quest,  General  Custer  lost  no  time  in  planning 
for  the  attack.  After  a  careful  survey  from  a 
neighboring  hill  he  decided  that  the  Cheyenne 
encampment  should  be  approached  by  four  par- 
ties from  four  different  directions,  one  of  which 
should  be  led  by  himself.  Major  Elliott  was 
to  lead  a  second  and  the  remaining  two  were 
in  charge  of  Captain  Thompson  and  Captain 
Meyers  respectively. 

Long  before  daylight  on  the  following  morning 
the  four  divisions  were  in  motion,  and  shortly 
they  separated  for  their  long  detours.  The  mo- 
ment of  attack  was  set  for  dawn  and  it  was 
hoped  that  the  four  bodies  of  troops  might  close 
in  upon  the  unsuspecting  encampment  and  com- 
pletely surprise  them. 

But  Black  Kettle  was  not  to  be  caught  nap- 
ping. With  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn  the  ap- 
proach of  the  troopers  was  discovered  and  a 
pistol  held,  it  was  afterward  learned,  by  the 
chief  himself,  gave  warning  of  the  presence  of 
the  converging  host. 

Secrecy  being  no  longer  possible,  the  intrepid 
Custer  ordered  the  bugle  sounded,  and  its  at- 
tenuated note,  floating  far  upon  the  crisp  morn- 
ing air,  bore  the  signal  to  the  other  commands 
to  advance  with  all  haste  upon  the  encampment. 

With  Custer's  party  was  a  little  band  which 
had    enlivened    the    weary    march    with    many 


294  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

sprightly  tunes.  Turning  to  these  heroes  of  the 
fife  and  drum,  Custer  ordered  them  to  play 
Garry  Owen,  which  was  a  prime  favorite  with 
his  men,  and  under  the  inspiring  strains  of  this 
lively  air  they  dashed  forward  to  the  charge. 

If  Black  Kettle  was  not  surprised,  he  was  none 
the  less  dismayed.  He  had  supposed  that  the 
winter,  .and  such  a  winter,  would  afford  him 
and  his  marauders  temporary  immunity  from 
pursuit,  and  lo,  here  was  a  white  man  with  long 
hair  and  dashing  mien,  who  pursued  his  quarry 
with  the  same  grim  determination  in  the  winter 
as  he  would  do  in  the  good  old  summer-time. 

On  he  came  at  the  head  of  his  troopers,  some 
of  them  on  their  chargers,  others  running  afoot, 
and  the  band  plodding  heroically  through  the 
snow,  and  blowing  out  its  enlivening  melody. 
From  other  sides  the  attacking  parties  advanced 
and  presently  the  valley  was  the  scene  of  tur- 
moil and  battle. 

The  lawless  Cheyennes  were  doomed  from  the 
moment  when  the  signal  strain  of  Custer's  bugle 
rent  the  air.  They  had  reckoned  without  rue, 
for  never  before  had  a  band  of  troopers  sought 
them  through  their  supposed  protection  of  cold 
and  snow. 

Black  Kettle,  with  all  his  evil  deeds  upon  his 
head,  went  down  to  a  merited  death,  fighting  like 
a  demon.    He  had  been  a  kettle  of  crimes  indeed 


GENERAL    GEORGE    A.    CUSTER     295 

— one  of  the  worst  Indians  of  one  of  the  worst 
tribes  that  ever  infested  the  plains. 

Here  and  there  the  Cheyennes  concentrated  and 
fought  desperately,  the  women,  who  were  spared 
by  the  troopers  in  all  cases,  joining  in  the  combat 
and  fighting  with  the  aggressive  energy  of  mod- 
ern -suffragists. 

Now  and  then  one  of  Custer's  men  fell,  but  the 
loss  among  the  Indians  was  far  more  heavy. 
Major  Elliott  and  a  few  men,  pursuing  a  group 
of  fugitives,  encountered  a  larger  force,  and  all 
of  Elliott's  men  were  killed,  their  fate  not  be- 
coming known  until  some  time  later. 

Having  thus  destroyed  the  chief  mischief-maker 
and  most  of  his  marauding  followers,  Custer  pur- 
sued-the  survivors,  who,  broken  in  spirit  and  in 
a  pitiable  confusion  of  fright,  went  scampering 
down  the  valley,  leaving  their  lodges  and  ponies 
to  the  triumphant  troopers.  There  remained,  too, 
a  few  terrified  squaws  who  were  in  a  state  of 
panic  at  the  fear  of  being  massacred,  and  one 
sagacious  female,  said  to  have  been  a  sister  of 
Black  Kettle. 

This  astute  lady,  perceiving  Custer  and  his 
sturdy  men  to  be  invincible,  now  sought  by  the 
gentle  art  of  matchmaking  to  propitiate  the  gen- 
eral, and  bringing  forth  the  fairest  damsel  of  the 
almost  deserted  village,  she  shrewdly  offered  her 
to  the  conqueror  as  his  blushing  bride.    The  gen- 


296  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

eral,  smiling  graciously,  acknowledged  her  gener- 
osity, but  declined  the  fair  tribute. 

Thus  ended  the  organized  marauding  career  of 
the  thieving  Cheyennes.  Fugitive  bands  of  them 
still  preyed  upon  travelers  along  the  Old  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  but  their  power  was  broken  since  the 
redoubtable  Black  Kettle  was  no  more.  Custer 
had  cleaned  them  out  with  grim  thoroughness, 
and  thereafter  his  name  spelled  terror  to  the 
Indians  of  the  Southwest. 

This  was  by  no  means  the  end  of  the  gallant 
trooper's  career  in  Kansas  and  the  Indian  Ter- 
ritory, but  we  must  now  follow  him  northward  to 
the  region  where  a  tragic  fate  was  to  complete 
his  romantic  and  restless  life. 

In  the  year  1875,  General  Custer  was  sent  into 
the  region  known  as  the  Black  Hills,  to  explore 
the  country,  observe  conditions,  and  make  an  ex- 
haustive report  on  all  he  found.  With  him  was 
a  strong  cavalry  force. 

The  region  was  one  which  had  been  set  apart 
by  our  government  as  a  reservation  for  the  pow- 
erful and  warlike  Sioux  Indians.  They  were  the 
most  numerous  of  all  the  tribes  and  more  difficult 
of  conquest  than  any  of  the  other  savage  nations 
within  our  national  domain.  It  was  supposed  that 
if  they  rallied  all  their  strength  they  could  muster 
fifteen  thousand  warriors — a  formidable  legion 
when  compared  with  the  predatory  tribes  of  the 
Southwest  and  the  nations  of  the  Pacific  Slope. 


GENERAL    GEORGE   A.    CUSTER     297 

The  Black  Hills,  which  had  been  assigned  to 
them,  occupy  portions  of  what  is  now  Dakota  and 
Wyoming,  and  here  they  lived,  reconciled  but 
never  satisfied,  and  always  with  a  jealous  eye 
upon  the  whites  who  came  among  them. 

In  particular,  their  old  chief,  Sitting  Bull, 
viewed  with  inhospitable  and  ominous  silence 
the  agreeable  surprise  expressed  by  travelers 
stopping  at  his  rugged  home,  and  he  contem- 
plated Custer  and  his  seasoned  troopers  not  al- 
together in  the  light  of  welcome  guests. 

General  Custer,  always  sanguine  and  enthu- 
siastic, was  charmed  with  the  fertility  and  beauty 
of  the  region,  and  he  embodied  in  his  report  a 
glowing  prophesy  of  its  development.  He  de- 
scribed it  as  another  Florida  in  the  varied  ex- 
uberance of  its  floral  beauty,  and  extremely  rich 
in  precious  metals. 

As  a  consequence  of  his  glowing  representa- 
tions, adventurers  from  every  part  of  the  con- 
tinent began  to  pour  into  the  Black  Hills,  and 
Sitting  Bull  saw  the  home  of  his  people  overrun 
with  a  growing  horde  of  settlers  and  wealth- 
seekers,  encouraged  by  the  government  quite 
regardless  of  the  Indians'  rights. 

Naturally  enough,  a  cloud  of  discontent  over- 
spread the  Sioux  villages,  and  there  were  omi- 
nous signs  of  an  impending  storm. 

At  last  the  expected  happened.  The  famous 
chieftain  was  asked  to  sign  a  treaty  giving  up 


298  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

part  of  his  lands  and  agreeing  to  remain  within 
the  bounds  of  a  certain  new  reservation.  Sitting 
Bull  refused. 

He  and  his  people  were  then  notified  that  if 
they  did  not  remove  to  the  specified  reservation 
before  January,  1876,  they  would  be  treated  as 
enemies  of  the  government.  Sitting  Bull  an- 
swered that  he  had  always  been  an  enemy  of  the 
government,  and  he  refused  to  stir. 

In  the  spring  of  that  year,  therefore,  the  reg- 
ulars opened  the  campaign  which  is  known  as  the 
Sioux  War. 

Sitting  Bull  chose  a  strong  position  in  the  rug- 
ged country  of  southern  Montana,  known  as  the 
Bad  Lands,  and  here  the  warriors  of  the  great 
Sioux  nation  flocked  to  his  standard  by  the  hun- 
dreds. 

The  plan  of  the  regulars  was  to  advance  against 
this  formidable  array  in  three  columns,  converg- 
ing toward  the  big  Sioux  encampment  from  three 
directions,  thus  hemming  in  the  whole  enemy 
horde  and  destroying  it.  The  column  approach- 
ing from  the  West  w^as  to  be  led  by  General  Gib- 
bon; that  from  the  South  by  General  Crooke; 
and  that  from  the  East  by  General  Terry.  The 
force  led  by  Terry  was  by  far  the  strongest  of 
the  three,  for  it  included  the  famous  Seventh  Cav- 
alry, six  hundred  strong,  commanded  by  the  gal- 
lant General  Custer. 

It  was  believed  that  any  one  of  these  forces 


GENERAL    GEORGE   A.    CUSTER     299 

could  defeat  the  Sioux  and  that  the  three,  acting 
simultaneously,  could  utterly  overwhelm  them  and 
force  them,  willy  nilly,  upon  the  reservation. 

"We  shall  not  here  follow  the  expeditions  led 
by  Crooke  and  Gibbon  more  than  to  say  that  they 
were  greatly  disappointed  in  their  expectations, 
finding  the  warlike  Sioux  (at  the  points  where 
they  encountered  them)  to  be  very  much  better 
equipped  and  stronger  in  numbers  than  they  had 
dreamed.  Our  interest  is  with  the  column  com- 
manded by  General  Terry,  and  more  particularly 
with  that  part  of  it  under  the  gallant  Custer. 
Custer,  indeed,  might  have  commanded  the  whole 
column  but  for  an  unfortunate  political  squabble 
in  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  participate, 
and  which  had  brought  upon  him  the  displeasure 
of  President  Grant. 

On  May  17th,  the  column  marched  from  the 
headquarters  at  Fort  Lincoln,  parading  before 
the  women  and  children  to  reassure  them  by  its 
imposing  appearance,  for  it  was  realized  by  all 
that  the  work  in  hand  was  grim  and  dangerous. 
Conspicuous  in  the  martial  display  was  the  pic- 
turesque figure  of  Custer  with  his  seasoned  cav- 
alrymen, most  of  whom  had  seen  service  on  the 
plains  in  Kansas.  Again  his  trusty  band  played 
Garry  Oiven.  It  is  related  that  the  whole  column, 
having  started  out,  paused  upon  the  plains  near 
by  in  order  that  the  men  might  bid  a  last  farewell 
to  those  they  were  leaving  behind.    Then,  to  the 


300  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

music  of  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,  they  marched 
away,  the  vivid  scarfs  of  Custer's  gallant  legion 
floating  in  the  breeze  as  the  horses  reared  and 
pranced  to  the  sprightly  air.  The  girls  they  left 
behind  them  never  saw  them  again,  for  not  one 
of  the  Seventh  Cavalry  returned;  and  no  one  to 
this  day  knows  exactly  how  they  died. 

General  Terry's  column  moved  up  the  Yellow- 
stone Eiver  as  far  as  the  Rosebud,  where  they 
made  a  fortified  camp.  On  June  22nd,  General 
Custer  with  his  cavalry  rode  from  this  camp  in- 
tending to  move  around  to  the  south  and  up  the 
Rosebud,  where  they  hoped  to  surprise  the  In- 
dians encamped  there  and  drive  them  into  the 
grip  of  the  larger  force. 

Three  days  later  Custer  came  upon  the  main 
trail  of  the  Sioux,  which  he  followed  until  it 
brought  him  into  a  region  known  as  the  Big  Horn 
Valley.  Satisfied  that  the  Indians  Avere  at  no 
great  distance,  and  that  an  encounter  must  shortly 
occur,  he  detached  seven  companies  under  Major 
Reno  and  sent  them  forward  to  attack  the  In- 
dians from  the  "West  while  he  himself  assailed 
them  from  another  point.  The  details  of  General 
Custer's  plan  are  not  clear  and  our  information 
is  limited  to  what  actually  happened. 

Before  Major  Reno  had  a  chance  to  surprise 
the  foe,  he  was  attacked  by  them  and  forced  to 
remain  on  the  defensive  for  a  whole  day.  It  has 
been  alleged  that  he  did  not  fight  bravely,  that 


GENEEAL    GEORGE    A.    CUSTER     301 

he  lost  his  nerve,  and  some  have  gdne  so  far  as 
to  say  that  he  was  a  coward. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Custer  with  his  remaining 
five  companions  unexpectedly  came  npon  the 
lower  end  of  the  Sioux  camp.  To  his  conster- 
nation he  found  it  to  be  of  immense  size  and 
much  more  formidable  in  every  way  than  the 
force  which  he  had  expected  to  encounter. 

But  without  hesitation  he  immediately  charged. 
All  Ave  know  of  this  sad  affair  has  been  learned 
from  the  Indians  themselves,  since  not  a  single 
white  man  survived. 

Within  a  very  few  minutes  the  gallant  and 
reckless  Custer  found  himself  surrounded  by  a 
savage  horde,  greatly  outnumbering  his  little 
force,  and  with  the  prospect  of  easy  vengeance 
upon  their  hated  foe.  All  historians  agree  that 
the  Seventh  Cavalry  fought  gallantly,  but  the  full 
particulars  of  what  actually  took  place  can  never 
be  known. 

Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that  they  should  not 
be  known.  There  were  about  two  hundred  of  the 
troopers  and  every  one  of  them,  including  the 
brave  Custer,  was  massacred.  One  of  his  Indian 
scouts,  Curly  by  name,  wrapped  himself  in  his 
blanket  and  managed  to  get  away  before  the  work 
of  horror  was  well  started. 

There  was  one  other  to  escape.  A  splendid 
horse,  which  had  earned  the  right  to  be  called  a 
veteran,  was  discovered  some  days  later  near  the 


302  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

bloody  field,  suffering  from  several  bullet  wounds. 
His  name  was  Comanche,  and  lie  had  formerly 
borne  one  of  Custer's  troopers  across  the  snowy 
plains  of  Kansas,  through  the  wind  and  storm, 
to  the  encampment  of  the  Cheyenne  scoundrel, 
Black  Kettle. 

Since  we  have  had  to  relate  some  facts  not 
altogether  to  the  credit  of  our  government  in  its 
dealings  with  the  Indians,  it  is  pleasant  to  relate 
that  Uncle  Sam  knew  how  to  treat  a  veteran  horse 
even  if  he  did  not  always  know  how  to  treat  the 
Sioux  and  other  Indians. 

Comanche  was  ordered  taken  to  Fort  Reilly  in 
Kansas,  the  wind-swept  plains  of  which  district 
he  knew  so  well,  and  where  he  had  once  reared 
his  noble  head  to  the  inspiring  tune  of  Garry 
Owen.  Orders  were  given  by  the  Secretary  of 
War  that  he  should  be  treated  with  the  utmost 
kindness  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  no  one  was  ever 
permitted  to  mount  him. 

In  time  he  recovered  fully  from  his  wounds, 
and  when  he  was  led  forth  upon  parade,  wearing 
his  old  Seventh  Cavalry  saddle  and  bridle,  he  was 
always  greeted  with  deafening  cheers,  which  were 
surely  no  more  than  the  just  due  of  the  only  sur- 
vivor of  the  Custer  Massacre. 


"CURLY,"    SURVIVOR     OF    THE    CUSTER     BATTLE 


JAMES    BRIDGER 

How  he  became  a  hunter  and  trapper  in  the  Rockies;  of  his 
discoveries  and  exploits,  and  of  how  his  name  became 
forever  associated  with  that  of  the  great  range. 

In  the  good  old  days  about  half  a  century  ago 
a  group  of  men  sat  about  a  large  table  in  a  tem- 
porary structure  which  formed  one  of  the  few 
poor  buildings  in  the  little  mountain  hamlet  of 
Denver,  Colorado. 

Before  them  was  spread  a  rough  map  and 
many  papers,  and  upon  their  faces  were  the  in- 
dubitable signs  of  dejection  and  perplexity. 

These  men  were  not  scouts,  they  were  engi- 
neers, and  they  had  made  an  heroic  progress 
westward  armed  with  compasses  and  transits, 
for  they  were  planning  the  line  of  the  great 
Union  Pacific  Railway. 

All  about  them,  and  especially  to  the  westward, 
rose  the  frowning  heights  of  the  Rockies,  and 
how  to  get  past  this  mighty  obstacle,  with  their 
steel  rails,  was  the  question. 

Of  course,  they  knew  they  could  not  storm  and 
conquer  the  Rockies  as  a  gallant  army  may  storm 
a  fortress.  They  would  have  to  find  a  way 
through,  and  where  to  look  for  such  a  pass  in 
all  that  tremendous,  rocky  jumble  which  frowned 

303 


304  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

upon  them  and  challenged  them,  had  been  a  mat- 
ter of  discouraging  debate  for  some  days. 

At  last  an  old  pioneer  said,  "Why  don't  yer 
ask  Jim  Bridger?" 

"Who  is  Jim  Bridger?  Is  he  an  engineer ?" 
inquired  one  of  the  railroad  men. 

"A  engineer?  Lord,  no!  Jim  Bridger,  he's  a 
mountain  man,  an'  he  knows  these  here  pesky 
Kockies  as  nobuddy  else  ever  did  nor  yet  ever 
will.  He'll  show  yer  the  likeliest  way,  quick  as 
he  'd  shoot  a  grizzly.    You  send  for  Jim  Bridger ! ' ' 

Further  inquiries  about  Jim  Bridger  disposed 
the  railroad  men  to  summon  him  into  their  august 
presence,  and  on  learning  that  he  was  at  that  time 
in  St.  Louis,  they  sent  him  a  pass  via  the  overland 
stage  with  the  request  that  he  come  at  once  to 
Denver.  They  did  not  mention  what  they  wanted 
to  see  him  about,  for  railroads  and  railroad  mag- 
nates were  as  independent  then  as  they  are  now. 

In  good  time  there  ambled  lazily  forth  from  the 
rattling  old  stage-coach  a  weather-beaten,  deeply 
tanned,  wrinkled  man  in  buckskin  who  betook 
himself  leisurely  to  the  tavern,  where  he  spent 
the  evening  greeting  his  old  friends  and  resting, 
without  so  much  as  a  thought  or  a  question  as 
to  the  reason  for  his  urgent  summons  across  the 
wide  plains. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning,  indeed,  that 
he  casually  inquired  who  "them  critters  wuz" 
who  had  magnanimously  favored  him  with  such 


JAMES   BRIDGER  305 

sumptuous  traveling  accommodations  across  the 
prairie.  On  hearing  that  they  were  railroad  men 
who  wished  to  consult  him  about  passes  through 
the  Rockies,  he  joined  a  card  game  with  several 
of  his  whilom  cronies  and  whiled  away  the  morn- 
ing in  friendly  play  and  converse  about  trapping 
and  hunting  in  the  mountains. 

This  is  not  the  way  that  people  treat  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad  in  these  degenerate  days,  when 
congressmen,  nay,  even  senators,  have  been  known 
to  respond  with  courteous  alacrity  to  its  polite 
summons  and  its  proffer  of  passes.  It  may  be 
imagined,  therefore,  with  what  pardonable  an- 
noyance the  capitalists  and  scientific  gentlemen 
contemplated  the  lanky  man  who  sauntered  into 
their  presence  some  time  or  other  during  the  day 
and,  sprawling  his  ungainly  limbs  from  a  chair, 
lit  his  atrocious  pipe  and  inquired  what  they 
wished  to  see  him  about. 

The  engineers  lost  no  time  in  explaining  their 
difficulty.  They  said,  in  effect,  that  they  could 
not  for  the  life  of  them  hit  on  a  suitable  point 
whereat  to  make  their  hop,  skip,  and  jump  over 
the  mountains,  and  they  besought  Jim  Bridger 
to  tell  them,  if  he  knew,  where  lay  the  most  prom- 
ising route. 

"Is  that  all  you  wanted?"  Jim  asked,  with  a 
note  of  disgust  in  his  voice. 

" Isn't  that  enough!"  one  of  the  gentlemen 
rejoined. 


306  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

"An'  that's  wot  yer  fetched  me  all  th'  way 
here  fer?" 

"It  is  a  very  important  and  complicated  ques- 
tion," said  one  of  the  engineers,  "and  it  is  caus- 
ing much  delay  and  perplexity." 

Jim  Bridger  bent  upon  the  group  a  look  of 
withering,  but  tolerant,  contempt. 

"Gimme  a  piece  uv  paper,"  said  he.  "I  could 
uv  tole  you  fellers  all  that  in  St.  Louis  and  saved 
myself  the  trouble  uv  comin'  here.  Or  leastways 
you  might  uv  come  to  see  me." 

Good  for  old  Jim  Bridger! 

To  this  day,  there  is  carefully  preserved  in  the 
archives  of  the  great  Union  Pacific  Corporation, 
an  old  piece  of  manila  paper,  containing  a  rough 
diagram  drawn  in  smeary  black  lines.  It  is  the 
very  map  made  by  Jim  Bridger  when,  with  a 
fine  contempt  for  all  the  scientific  paraphernalia 
about  him,  he  stooped  and  picking  a  dead  coal 
out  of  the  fire,  drew  the  crude  outline  which 
showed  the  puzzled  engineers  the  way  they  were 
seeking. 

Pointing  to  a  certain  peak,  the  veteran  said, 
"Thar's  whar  you  fellers  kin  cross  with  your 
road  without  more  diggin'  and  cuttin'  than  you 
think  fer."  And  to-day  the  thundering  trains 
which  wake  the  echoes  of  those  gray  canyons  as 
they  wind  through  the  mighty  range  cross  the 
main  spur  just  where  Jim  Bridger  indicated  on 
his  crude,  coal-drawn  diagram. 


JAMES   BRIDGER  307 

That  map  was  made  by  the  greatest  mountain 
man  who  ever  lived.  He  knew  the  Rockies  as 
no  other  scout  or  trapper  ever  knew  them,  which 
is  saying  a  good  deal,  for  Kit  Carson  and  others 
wrenched  their  secrets  from  them  and  were  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  their  lonely  fastnesses. 

But  these  were  .all  men  of  the  plains  also,  where- 
as Jim  was  a  sort  of  Rocky  Mountain  specialist. 
He  it  was  who  discovered  the  defile  which  has 
known  the  tread  of  many  adventurous  feet  since 
his  time  and  which  to  this  day  bears  the  name 
of  Bridger's  Pass.  It  is  in  the  wildest  country 
known  to  man,  and  the  first  to  discover  and  ex- 
plore it  must  have  been  a  venturesome  creature 
indeed. 

It  is  superfluous  to  say  that  Jim  Bridger  ran 
away  from  home  when  he  was  a  boy,  for  nearly 
all  famous  scouts  did  that,  and  this  reckless  act 
of  boyhood,  so  delectable  and  spicy  in  extravagant 
fiction,  becomes  nothing  less  than  monotonous  in 
the  history  of  the  great  plains. 

Jim  was  born  in  "Washington,  D.  C,  in  1807, 
and  while  still  a  very  young  boy  (the  expression 
sounds  familiar)  he  ran  away  and  joined  the  ex- 
pedition of  the  explorer,  James  Ashley — a  very 
good  man  with  whom  to  cast  his  lot  if  a  boy  must 
run  away  from  home  at  all. 

His  falling  in  with  this  redoubtable  wilderness 
breaker  could  not  have  been  at  a  more  propitious 
time.    Ashley  was  planning  an  extensive  trapping 


308  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

expedition  into  the  extreme  West  and  he  welcomed 
the  young  fellow  with  open  arms. 

He  had  already  under  construction  a  rough 
headquarters  or  "fort,"  as  they  called  such  sta- 
tions, on  the  Yellowstone  Kiver,  which  runs  across 
the  country  that  is  now  Dakota  and  has  its  source 
in  the  Bitter  Eoot  Range. 

Here,  in  the  year  1822,  Ashley  assembled  a 
daring  company  of  twenty-eight  men,  the  young- 
est of  whom  was  Jim  Bridger,  fifteen  years  of 
age.  It  is  said  that  even  then  Jim  was  a  crack 
shot,  and  we  can  thereby  form  some  estimate  of 
his  qualities  in  marksmanship  after  a  subsequent 
practice  covering  a  period  of  many  years.  The 
accuracy  of  his  aim  must  have  been  something 
uncanny  in  those  latter  years! 

When  all  was  ready  the  adventurers,  led  by 
the  fearless  Ashley,  bent  their  course  westward 
toward  the  frowning  mountains,  but  they  were 
soon  to  meet  with  almost  as  resolute  a  challenge 
to  their  advance  as  the  rugged  heights  themselves 
would  present.  This  was  the  Arikaras  tribe  of 
Indians  who  had  made  a  vow  that  no  white  man 
should  pass  their  country. 

Encountering  the  little  party  of  explorers,  they 
killed  fourteen  of  their  number  and  wounded  ten, 
leaving  four  out  of  the  twenty-eight  to  debate 
whether  it  would  be  prudent  to  go  farther. 

It  was  in*  that  affray  that  Jim  Bridger  killed 


JAMES   BRIDGER  309 

the  first — and  the  second — of  his  long  list  of  In- 
dians.   Quite  a  dime  novel  young  hero  indeed ! 

This  setback  delayed,  but  did  not  discourage, 
the  intrepid  Ashley,  and  as  for  Jim  Bridger,  now 
that  he  had  had  a  taste  of  adventure  and  Indian 
fighting,  wild  horses  could  not  have  dragged  him 
from  that  delightful  field. 

Consequently  when  the  enlarged  expedition  set 
forth  a  year  or  two  later  this  doughty  boy  scout 
was  on  hand  overflowing  with  adventurous  ex- 
pectations. 

He  was  now  recognized  as  a  rifleman  of  superb 
skill,  a  trailer  to  rival  the  red  man  himself,  an 
Indian  fighter  of  envious  renown  even  among  his 
companions — bold,  tireless,  resourceful,  unflinch- 
ing, as  brave  as  a  lion,  with  the  vitality  of  a 
camel,  as  tough,  in  short,  as  a  hickory  nut,  and 
religious — oh,  very  religious! 

In  that  notable  party  were  other  men  destined 
to  win  fame  in  the  romance  of  the  Golden  West 
— Andy  Henry,  who  had  already  crossed  the  Con- 
tinental Divide ;  Billie  Sublette  and  old  Jed  Smith, 
who  used  the  same  bullet  time  and  time  again  on 
the  plains  or  mountains,  for  buffalo  or  grizzly. 
An  economical,  thrifty  old  soul  was  he. 

But  young  Jim  Bridger  could  draw  a  bead  with 
any  of  them,  and  could  conduct  prayers  into  the 
bargain.  He  was  the  scout  evangelist  of  the 
Rockies. 


310  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

Accompanied  by  his  sturdy  Land,  Ashley  pushed 
up  the  North  Platte,  through  the  Sweetwater 
Eange  of  mountains,  and  into  Green  Eiver  Val- 
ley, which  lies  in  the  southwestern  part  of  what 
is  now  "Wyoming,  and  is  entirely  enclosed  by 
mountains. 

This  was  the  destination  which  they  had  set  for 
themselves,  and  here  they  established  a  headquar- 
ters for  rendezvous.  The  plan  was  for  small  par- 
ties to  go  out  into  the  mountains,  trapping  and 
hunting,  and -to  return  at  the  end  of  a  year,  bring- 
ing their  pelts  for  shipment  to  the  East. 

Thus  Jim  Bridger,  following  up  the  beaver 
streams  and  exploring  the  wild,  rocky  country, 
had  his  first  glimpse  of  the  mighty  Eockies. 

Granting  the  young  man  an  adventurous  dis- 
position to  begin  with,  it  is  not  difficult  to  ap- 
preciate the  romantic  hold  which  those  giant 
heights  gained  upon  him — a  hold  which  was  des- 
tined never  to  relax  in  all  his  long  life.  WTher- 
ever  he  went  thereafter  he  was  always  sure  to 
return  to  his  beloved  mountains,  wandering  among 
them,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  with  one  or 
more  comrades,  exploring  their  wild  retreats  and 
their  rocky  passes  and  winding  caverns  and  echo- 
haunted  ravines,  until  it  seemed  that  the  great 
range  could  have  no  more  secrets  to  reveal  to  him. 

After  the  first  year  's  hunting  the  men  returned 
from  their  wanderings  and  young  Bridger,  like 
the  others,  turned  over  a  goodly  stock  of  valuable 


JAMES   BRIDGER  311 

pelts,  the  trophies  of  his  exploring  and  his  marks- 
manship. 

Then  the  intrepid  men  set  out  again  in  small 
parties  of  two  or  three  for  another  sojourn  in 
the  mountains  while  Ashley  returned  to  St.  Louis 
with  a  stock  which  made  him  rich. 

It  was  on  that  second  hunting  trip  that  Bridger 
and  his  two  companions  had  a  friendly  argument 
which  was  destined  to  bear  momentous  conse- 
quences. 

They  were  resting  in  a  wild  spot  called  Cache 
Valley  through  which  the  small  Bear  River  flowed, 
and  Jim's  two  comrades  fell  into  a  lively  dispute 
as  to  where  this  stream  emptied.  The  end  of  it 
was  that  they  made  a  bet  and  requested  Jim,  he 
being  a  disinterested  or  at  least  an  impartial 
listener,  to  go  and  find  out. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  others  should  camp 
where  they  were  until  he  returned,  and  he  there- 
upon set  out  upon  his  exploration.  The  first  stage 
of  his  journey  took  him  through  a  region  where 
he  had  already  trapped  and  hunted,  but  before 
long  he  found  himself  following  the  stream  into 
unfamiliar  territory  where  he  watched  for  one  or 
other  of  the  larger  rivers  into  which  he  supposed 
the  smaller  stream  flowed. 

At  length  he  thought  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
wide  expanse  of  water  between  high  hills  far 
ahead.  Scarcely  crediting  what  he  saw,  for  he 
knew   the   Pacific   to   be   many  miles   away,   he 


312     THE   BOYS 'BOOK   OF    SCOUTS 

pressed  on  until  his  uncertain,  distant  view  was 
confirmed  by  a  sight  which  caused  him  to  pause 
in  astonishment. 

For,  rounding  the  foot  of  a  hill,  he  beheld  a 
vast  sheet  of  water  flanked  by  rugged  heights 
and  the  farther  shore  of  which  he  could  barely 
make  out  in  the  hazy  distance. 

When  he  reached  the  shore  of  this  inland  sea 
he  paused  and  gazed  across  its  vast  bosom.  Then 
he  tasted  of  its  water  and  found  it  to  be  salt. 

He  was,  in  fact,  standing  upon  the  brink  of  Bear 
River  Bay,  an  arm  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  which 
he  was  thus  the  first  white  man  to  discover. 

Returning  to  his  companions,  he  told  them  of 
his  discovery,  and  as  the  water  which  he  had 
tasted  was  undoubtedly  salt,  they  decided  that  it 
must  be  an  arm  of  the  ocean. 

This  belief  they  continued  to  hold  until  some 
months  later,  when  several  other  members  of  the 
Ashley  party  sailed  completely  around  the  lake 
in  a  skin  canoe. 

So  young  Jim  Bridger,  still  in  his  teens,  dis- 
covered the  Great  Salt  Lake,  an  exploit,  albeit 
accidental,  which  should  have  made  his  name  more 
famous  than  it  is  among  American  explorers. 

"When  the  altogether  successful  enterprise  of 
Ashley  was  over,  he  and  the  band  of  sturdy  trap- 
pers whose  courage  and  sure  aim  had  made  him 
rich  went  east  to  St.  Louis,  where,  we  are  told, 
he  "treated  his  men  handsomely,"  as  certainly 


JAMES   BRIDGER  313 

lie  should  have  done,  giving  them  the  run  of  the 
best  hotels  (which,  considering  the  times,  is  not 
saying  much,  to  be  sure),  paying  them  good  "wages 
for  all  the  time  they  had  been  away,  and  making 
them  each  a  present  of  three  hundred  dollars  and 
a  suit  of  fashionable  store  clothes,  in  which  they 
must  have  looked  strange  enough,  even  in  that 
frontier  community.  We  should  like  to  have  seen 
Jim  Bridger  in  his  store  clothes. 

As  for  the  three  hundred  dollars  each,  that  was 
not  nearly  so  surprising.  It  may  not  be  amiss, 
now  that  wre  are  about  to  take  leave  of  our  com- 
pany of  scouts,  to  observe  that  most  of  the  West- 
ern plainsmen  and  mountaineers  could  usually 
show  imposing,  sometimes  even  staggering,  rolls 
of  greenbacks. 

We  have  withheld  this  statement  until  the  end 
of  our  trail  in  order  that  the  sordid  mention  of 
money  might  not  obtrude  itself  upon  the  terri- 
tories of  romance.  But  it  is  a  fact  that  nearly 
any  one  of  these  scouts,  guides,  trappers,  and 
Indian  fighters  could  have  hauled  forth,  at  almost 
any  time,  from  the  depths  of  his  tattered  buck- 
skins, money  enough  to  buy  a  high-grade  twin- 
six  touring  car  in  these  prosaic  times,  and  have 
had  cash  enough  left  to  buy  tires  and  gasoline 
for  a  year! 

Uncle  Dick  Wooton  would  have  thought  shame 
to  go  about  with  less  than  a  thousand  or  two  in 
his  pockets,  and  we  have  already  seen  how  old 


314  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

John  Smith  had  suits  made  and  bought  presents 
for  a  little  orphaned  boy,  and  finally  gave  him 
a  parting  gift  of  two  hundred  dollars  "fer  Ms- 
self."  Eube  Stevens,  who  could  not  talk,  had 
always  a  few  hundreds  with  him,  and  even  the 
blithesome  Belzy  Dodd,  whose  sprightly  genius 
might  incline  one  to  think  him  impecunious, 
thought  nothing  of  receiving  a  thousand  or  two 
for  pelts  after  a  winter's  trapping  in  the  Eockies. 

Not  that  these  rough,  brave,  resourceful  and 
supremely  picturesque  men  were  mercenary.  They 
were  not ;  they  merely  thought  of  a  hundred  dol- 
lars in  the  same  light  spirit  in  which  they  blithely 
spoke  of  traveling  a  hundred  miles. 

They  received,  and  justly  so,  large  sums  for 
the  perilous  and  adventurous  work  they  did; 
whether  it  was  freezing  in  the  Eockies,  swelter- 
ing on  the  plains,  guiding,  scouting,  trapping, 
or,  perchance,  righting  the  Indians. 

The  sums  which  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
among  the  rough  old  scouts  who  smoked  their 
atrocious  pipes  and  told  their  amazing  yarns  at 
Bent's  Fort  were  sometimes  fabulous.  And  when, 
peradventure,  their  wranderings  took  them  to  St. 
Louis,  or  Independence,  or  Santa  Fe,  they  spent 
small  fortunes  with  a  fine  prodigality.  There  is 
an  instance  reported  of  one  Job  Cutter  betting 
five  thousand  dollars  cash  that  he  would  hit  a 
certain  buffalo;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  he 
was  amply  equipped  to  make  good  his  bet. 


JAMES   BRIDGER  315 

After  his  adventures,  Loth  romantic  and  profit- 
able, with  the  Ashley  expedition,  Jim  Bridger 's 
trail  was  pretty  clearly  defined.  Back  he  Avent 
to  his  beloved  Rockies,  and  there,  with  the  varia- 
tion of  an  occasional  trip  eastward,  he  lived  out 
his  days.  He  became  the  greatest  trapper  and 
hunter  the  mountains  had  ever  known,  acquiring 
a  familiarity  with  the  great  range  which  Avon  him 
a  unique  renown  even  among  his  colleagues. 

Like  Kit  Carson  (and  perhaps  he  was  Carson's 
only  rival)  Bridger  was  of  a  gentle  and  kindly 
nature,  honest  to  a  dot,  and  with  a  simple  mod- 
esty that  Avon  all  hearts. 

In  1855,  Sir  George  Gore,  a  famous  Irish 
sportsman,  took  it  into  his  head  to  come  to  Amer- 
ica for  an  exploring  and  hunting  sojourn  in  the 
Rockies. 

He  did  not  exactly  come  alone,  for  Avith  him, 
by  Avay  of  retinue,  were  more  than  half  a  hun- 
dred subordinates  in  the  capacities  of  cooks, 
steAA^ards,  secretaries,  dog-tenders  and  goodness 
knows  Avhat!  It  required  thirty  Avagons  to  ac- 
commodate this  sumptuous  outfit,  but  Sir  George, 
notwithstanding  his  suspiciously  elaborate  equi- 
page, was  no  dilettante  or  amateur  huntsman. 

Hearing  of  Jim  Bridger,  he  at  once  engaged 
him  as  scout  and  the  two,  so  different  in  birth 
and  breeding,  became  fast  friends.  Jim  piloted 
this  motley  parade  Avherever  it  Avas  possible  for 
such  a  cumbersome  caravan  to  go  in  the  Rockies, 


316  THE  BOYS'  BOOK  OF  SCOUTS 

and  where  the  company  could  not  go  he  led 
Sir  George  here  and  there  among  the  secluded 
glens,  killing  grizzlies  with  him  until  they  had 
"dropped"  forty-seven.  Sir  George,  never  hav- 
ing seen  a  grizzly  before,  had  the  time  of  his  life 
shooting  them,  but  he  could  never  (despite  long 
experience  as  a  huntsman)  acquire  the  skill  of 
his  tough  companion  and  guide. 

In  1856,  Jim  Bridger,  for  what  purpose  we  can- 
not imagine,  bought  a  farm  in  Westport,  Mis- 
souri, within  earshot  of  the  din  and  clatter  of 
the  growing  town  of  Kansas  City.  He  soon, 
however,  thought  better  of  his  decision  to  settle 
down  in  contaminating  proximity  to  civilization, 
and  was  of!  again  to  the  Eockies  where  he  be- 
longed. 

He  was  close  to  fifty  then — raw-boned,  rugged, 
browned,  and  still  keen-eyed.  Occasionally  he 
went  East  with  his  pelts  (it  was  while  on  such  a 
trip  that  the  Union  Pacific  engineers  heard  of 
him)  but  mostly  he  roamed  among  his  wonted 
haunts  "far  from  the  madding  crowd,"  hunting, 
trapping,  until  he  became  old  and  feeble  and 
almost  blind. 

Then  he  went  home  for  good,  if  one  may  call 
it  home,  to  his  prosy  farm  near  Kansas  City. 
We  should  prefer  to  think  of  him  as  dying  as 
Scott's  "pilgrim  of  Nature"  died,  in  the  shelter- 
ing and  loving  arms  of  his  noble  mountains. 
More  stately  indeed  would  have  been  his  couch 


JAMES   BRIDGET  317 

in  those  lonely  caverns  and  deep  ravines  which 
had  so  often  echoed  to  the  report  of  the  steady 
rifle  which  never  missed.  But  may  we  not  believe 
that,  wherever  his  last  mortal  resting  place,  his 
spirit  still  lingers  in  the  solemn  places  of  'the 
wild,  lonesome  range  which  he  knew  and  loved 
so  well. 


